


The Space Between Us

by SpoonyLupin



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Barebacking, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Burglary, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Untouched, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Gay Richie Tozier, Happy Ending, Head Injury, Home Invasion, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Insecure Richie Tozier, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Language, M/M, Making Out, Male Bonding, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Medical Inaccuracies, Memory Loss, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Mystery, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Richie Tozier Cries During Sex, Rough Sex, Slow Build, Smut, Top Richie Tozier, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 82,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoonyLupin/pseuds/SpoonyLupin
Summary: When Richie is the victim of a home invasion and ends up in the hospital with a head injury, the idyllic life he has built with Eddie is suddenly shattered.  It soon becomes apparent that while he still recognizes Eddie, Richie has absolutely no memory of their romantic involvement or their marriage.  Eddie is simply his ‘bestie’, and Eddie is left wondering if Richie’s feelings for him died in the attack.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 165
Kudos: 218





	1. Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Stephen King, Chase Palmer, Cary Fukunaga and Gary Dauberman, and various publishers including, but not limited to, Viking Press, New Line Cinema, RatPac-Dune Entertainment, KatzSmith Productions, Lin Pictures, Double Dream, Rideback, Vertigo Entertainment, Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Author’s note: This little gem was born from Brave, my novel-length Reddie romance where adult Eddie is fretting about leaving Derry after defeating It for the second time and forgetting about Richie all over again. He asks Bill, “Can you imagine waking up and seeing a stranger in your bed?” I already had Eddie in the hospital in that story, so I decided to turn the tables and put Richie there instead. And then my muse went completely wild and…we have this. (Not sorry.) I really don’t need another novel-length story to work on, but my…muse made me? Seriously, I can’t get this out of my head, so I needed to do something with it, and I wanted to work on something a bit more dramatic than Brave is.
> 
> This takes place a year and a half after the events of Chapter Two. Eddie escaped from Pennywise unharmed and he and Richie admitted their feelings for each other soon after. Eddie divorced Myra and married Richie a year later, and they are now living happily ever after in LA…until I decided to ruin it for them. Everything else from the movie remains the same, including Stan being dead (I’m sorry). I have no idea how long this will be (because I never do), but pretty long, I imagine. I hope you guys enjoy it!

In hindsight, Eddie knew that he would never forget the very last morning he spent with Richie as his husband – the very last time they made love. It was burned into Eddie’s memory like an etching into wood, and it was the very last thing he had to hold onto before his life with Richie was completely pulled out from under him.

Before he lost everything.

Eddie didn’t look at the clock when he awoke to Richie’s warm breath on the back of his neck, but he knew it was early; the very first splinters of sunlight were just beginning to pierce the Los Angeles sky, so it was probably just before seven o’clock or so. Eddie didn’t have to be at work until ten o’clock that morning, so he still had a bit of time to get frisky with Richie, and if his husband’s actions were anything to go by, that was exactly what Richie was hinting at.

Richie tightened his arm around Eddie’s waist from behind, pulling him closer and trailing soft kisses between his shoulder blades.

“Mm,” Eddie mumbled sleepily, finding Richie’s hand and entwining their fingers together.

“You sure you have to go work this morning?” Richie asked in between kisses.

“Unfortunately,” Eddie sighed. “There’s a meeting I can’t miss, and I really need to get those reports started for that new client my boss is bringing on.”

“Amazing,” Richie said. “You come all the way to fucking LA, insisting you’re going to change up your life, and you end up doing the same exact boring thing you were doing back in New York.”

Eddie jerked backwards, slightly pushing Richie away in frustration. Richie, however, only tightened the hold he had on Eddie, squeezing him even more tightly.

“I have changed up my life, asshole!” Eddie muttered, making no effort to push Richie away again. Richie’s chest was up against his back, their bare skin pressed together. Richie’s knees slotted in behind Eddie’s comfortably, and Eddie always felt so warm and safe when they laid like this. “I divorced Myra, I moved to LA, and I married you! Believe me, nothing says ‘I changed up my life’ quite like marrying Trashmouth Tozier. I just…like what I do, and I’m good at it.”

“You’re good at a lot of things,” Richie told him, going back to laying kisses along his spine.

As Richie dipped lower and lower down his back, Eddie shivered in pleasure. He pushed his hips back in an effort to feel more of Richie, and he immediately felt Richie’s growing interest straining through the layers of their underwear. Richie thrust forward gently and Eddie moaned at the sensation.

“We have a little time before you have to go in,” Richie murmured, still kissing along Eddie’s spine. “Want me to show you some of the things you’re good at?”

Eddie groaned, because Richie always knew exactly the right things to get Eddie’s attention. Rolling over onto his back, Eddie immediately sought out Richie’s lips in a kiss. Richie met them, moving to cover Eddie’s body with his.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie whispered, letting his head fall back against the pillow as Richie started exploring Eddie’s neck with his lips.

“You’re so good at taking my cock for example,” Richie said just before fastening his teeth over one of Eddie’s nipples. “Giving me fucking amazing blowjobs. Dicking me down into the mattress-“

“ _Richie_ ,” Eddie whined, because his son of a bitch husband knew _exactly_ what he was doing. Knew _exactly_ how worked up he was getting Eddie with just a few well-placed words. And teeth.

“Hm?” Richie asked, feigning innocence. His lips continued to explore Eddie’s chest, kissing along the center down to his bellybutton.

“God, _fuck_.”

“Yeah?” Richie asked, glancing up at Eddie through his lashes. “You want to fuck? Well, which one of the above are you referring to? Or did you have something else in mind entirely? I’m open to suggestions.” Richie returned to kissing Eddie’s stomach, slowly making his way down to the waistband of Eddie’s boxer shorts.

Eddie reached out for Richie, grasping his shoulders tightly. “Want you, Richie.” His erection was already growing ridiculously hard, and he thrust up, attempting to find some friction. All he was met with, however, was empty space; not even Richie or the sheet over top of him to provide him with any comfort.

Richie had pulled back a little, instead slipping his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s boxers. He started to pull them down and asked, “Want me how?”

“ _Richie_ ,” Eddie groaned again. “Just fucking do _something_! Christ, you’re killing me here.”

Richie grinned up at him, a dark glint in his eyes as he pulled off Eddie’s underwear, freeing Eddie’s erection at last. Eddie thrust up off the bed again, at the sheet laying softly over his cock, but it did absolutely nothing to provide him with any relief. A moment later, Richie gave in, firmly wrapping his hand around Eddie’s erection.

“So, um, what did you have in mind then?” Richie asked. His tongue darted out quickly, laving over the tip of Eddie’s cock.

A strangled moan escaped from Eddie, because Jesus Christ! Richie was a fucking expert in making him come undone, and then he’d just fucking sit there and ask him asinine questions like he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

“Fuck me,” Eddie babbled, throwing his head back and forth across his pillow in frustration. “Just fucking fuck me already!”

Richie grinned widely, and even in the faint early morning sunlight, Eddie could see his husband’s teeth, like he was a wild animal, getting ready to devour its meal.

“With pleasure,” Richie murmured, crawling back up Eddie’s body and reaching across him towards their bedside table. Richie fumbled around in the drawer for a moment, his fingers finally settling around the tube of lube in the darkness.

“Face up or face down?” Richie asked before capturing Eddie’s lips in a firm kiss. He still had the lube in his hand and was working on trying to flip the cap open while all of his attention was focused on Eddie.

“Face up,” Eddie said, again bucking his hips up for some friction against the sheet. “I want to see you.”

Richie finally succeeded in opening the lube and squirting some into his hand. He let the tube fall to the mattress and wasted no time in pressing a slicked-up finger to Eddie’s hole. Eddie hissed in a sharp breath at the sensation, letting his left leg fall to the side to give Richie better access.

Dipping his index finger into Eddie, Richie pressed his lips over Eddie’s, swallowing down the noises that Eddie had started making. Eddie reached up for Richie’s shoulders again, but then trailed them up along Richie’s neck and finally, to his cheeks. Eddie held them firmly in his hands as Richie kissed him, deep and hard.

Richie had buried his finger completely inside Eddie by that point, so he pressed in his middle finger, sliding that one along the other. Eddie squirmed against the sensation, not quite sure if he wanted to thrust down onto Richie’s fingers, or up again against the sheet again.

“God,” Eddie gasped, breaking their kiss. “Fuck, I love you. Love the way you make me feel.”

“Love making you feel good,” Richie murmured, pulling his fingers out of Eddie a little only to push them back in. “I love you. So fucking much.”

Richie dipped his head, trailing kisses down along Eddie’s jaw and towards his neck again. Eddie’s breathing had grown heavy, his chest quickly rising and falling with every breath. It was at this that Richie pressed his ring finger into Eddie as well, earning a long moan from him.

Richie continued to work his way down, kissing along Eddie’s chest and down to his stomach just like he had before. When he reached Eddie’s cock again, Richie took it into his mouth this time, sucking around the head as he fixed Eddie with his eyes.

This nearly drove Eddie over the edge, when Richie looked at him with such fucking love, and adoration, and _lust_ when he was doing such salacious things like swallowing down Eddie’s cock. Again, Eddie wasn’t sure whether to push down onto Richie’s fingers or thrust upward into his husband’s mouth, so he ended up squirming around again to try and get Richie to see his desperation.

“Oh, god, _please_ ,” Eddie begged, and he was shocked that his own voice bordered on a sob. “Please, Richie.”

“Please what?” Richie asked, letting Eddie’s cock fall from his mouth.

“ _Please fuck me_!” Eddie cried. His hands had fallen away from Richie and he twisted his fingers into the sheets underneath him instead. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?” he demanded then, letting his voice rise a bit in irritation.

Richie was fucking grinning again like a goddamned madman, because he _fucking knew_. He _knew_ what he did to Eddie and how much it drove him crazy. How much he could make Eddie come undone on just his fingers alone, with just a few flicks of his tongue over Eddie’s cock.

A moment later, Richie had withdrawn his fingers from Eddie. Eddie groaned a little at the now empty sensation that left him with, but Richie was quickly removing his own underwear before reaching for the bottle of lube again. Richie gripped his own throbbing erection in his fist, covering it with lube. Richie gasped in a breath at the sensation, staring down at Eddie again as he did so.

“Want you so bad,” Eddie told him.

“You’ve got me,” Richie said. He crawled back up the bed, placing his hands on either side of Eddie’s shoulders as he settled himself in between Eddie’s legs. Eddie immediately let them fall open, and Richie pressed the head of his cock against Eddie’s opening.

Eddie pulled his knees up, giving Richie better access, and they both gasped loudly as Richie slowly buried himself in Eddie. Richie settled himself down against Eddie’s chest, capturing his lips in a kiss as he lazily let his cock slide into Eddie. Eddie wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist, urging him in deeper. He used his feet for leverage, gently digging his heels into the small of Richie’s back and pulling him closer.

Richie reached his hands up the mattress, taking Eddie’s cheeks in his hands and kissing him deeply. Richie pressed his cock completely into Eddie as he did so, his balls settling against Eddie’s ass. Richie had pushed in so deeply, Eddie could feel the tip of Richie’s cock just teasing against his prostate, and this made Eddie squirm with pleasure again.

Richie pulled away and smiled down at Eddie. Even in the dimness of their bedroom, Eddie could see the faint glimmer in his husband’s eyes and knew that Richie was getting all sappy again.

“I love you,” Richie said, his voice quivering just the slightest bit with emotion. He rubbed his fingers gently over Eddie’s cheeks, over the faint scar that still lined the left side of his face.

Eddie had been about to make a joke, but the tone in Richie’s voice stopped him. He knew Richie wouldn’t take offense to being teased for getting all emotional, but sometimes, it was nice to just let him. To get lost in the emotions that rippled through them, reveling in the fact that they had gotten this happy ending at all. Because all too easily, it could have been ripped out of their grasp forever. All too easily, one or both of them could have died, or not had the courage to admit their feelings at all. So many variables existed that could have doomed their relationship before it even went anywhere.

“I love you,” Eddie said, wrapping his own hands around Richie’s neck and pulling him down for another kiss.

Richie pulled out of Eddie almost entirely before pushing back in, slowly but firmly. Eddie gasped out around Richie’s mouth as Richie repeated the action, settling into a steady pace as he thrust in and out of Eddie.

“God, Richie,” Eddie whispered, letting his fingers play with the hair at the back of Richie’s neck. He often teased Richie about his hair, about his out-of-control locks, but in reality, he loved them. He loved being able to let his fingers thread through them, or to tug at it sometimes when they were having one of their more frantic and desperate love-making sessions. This, though – sometimes they just liked to take it slow and simply bask in the feeling of the other. To simply _love_ each other and not get caught up in _needing to get off right this second_. (Although that was fun too, and Eddie would never say no to either.)

Richie had dipped his head into Eddie’s shoulder, first resting his forehead there as he slowly thrust into Eddie, and then he started peppering kissing along Eddie’s upper chest. Eddie let his head fall to the side, giving Richie more room to work. Richie thrust particularly deep then, and this caused Eddie moan to, arching his back up off the mattress.

“That good?” Richie asked, pulling out and then pushing back in.

“Oh, god,” Eddie murmured. “So good. You’re so amazing, Richie.”

Richie groaned, long and hard as he bottomed out once again. “Not nearly as amazing as you are,” Richie said. “You feel so fucking good around my cock. God, you’re so tight.”

Richie had managed to hit his prostate and Eddie groaned, using his legs to try and pull Richie even more tightly against him.

“Oh, fuck, Richie,” Eddie said, trying to lift his hips up to meet Richie’s thrusts. “Do that again.”

“Yeah?” Richie asked, his voice heavy with lust. “There?” He pushed back in firmly, and when this earned another moan from Eddie, he asked, “You like that?”

Eddie whined in response, not sure he could find the words right now. Richie kept hitting that spot inside him and it felt like it kept sending of sparks of electricity through his body every time he did. Eddie threw his head back the other way, desperately seeking out Richie’s lips again. Richie lifted his head from Eddie’s shoulder, letting Eddie kiss him almost frantically.

“You like that, Eds?” Richie asked again in between kisses and gasps for air. He kept thrusting down into Eddie, his pace growing slightly faster and more erratic as he began chasing his release.

“I love that,” Eddie finally managed to gasp out. He had dug his nails into Richie’s shoulders now, and he was almost afraid he was hurting his husband, but Richie didn’t stop to complain. “Love it so much.”

Richie snaked one of his arms underneath Eddie’s waist, using it to pull him closer. He pressed his other hand against Eddie’s cheek, like he couldn’t possibly find enough parts of Eddie to touch. Eddie could see droplets of sweat on Richie’s forehead in the steadily growing sunlight, could see the intense gaze that Richie had in his eyes. Like he had never seen anything more beautiful or more perfect in the universe than Eddie. Like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was that he got to be here with Eddie, making love to him like it was the most important thing he would ever do in his life.

“Richie,” Eddie gasped, rolling his hips against Richie’s, meeting every thrust. He dragged his fingertips along Richie’s jaw, savoring the way Richie’s stubble felt against his skin, rough and course.

That faint glimmer was back in Richie’s eyes, and it made Eddie’s heart clench in his chest. Made Eddie feel like the most precious thing in the universe, and that made Eddie want to cry too. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop them, swallowed to try and stop the sob that threatened to escape him, and Richie immediately stilled his hips.

“Are you okay?” Richie asked, voice bordering on concern.

Richie was so fucking gentle with Eddie when they made love, and that always made Eddie ridiculously sappy too, so he supposed he couldn’t complain about Richie. Even when they were having more heated and frantic sex, Richie would always check in with him to make sure he was all right. To make sure he was still enjoying it as much as possible. God, what had Eddie ever done to deserve someone so amazing?

Eddie supposed he knew the answer to that, because he had put up with a hell of a lot of bullshit to get to this point. To get his happily ever after. To get the one person in the universe who he knew would never lie to him or hurt him.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied immediately, opening his eyes to meet Richie’s in a reassuring stare. “Just getting a little emotional here, but I’m good. Don’t stop.”

Smiling, Richie started thrusting anew, trying to fall into the same pattern he had just been in. It only took a moment before his movements started to grow rushed and a little bit desperate.

“You _are_ good,” Richie panted between heavy breaths, warm on Eddie’s cheek. “You’re so good. Take my cock so well.”

This drew a strangled whimper from Eddie, because it always made him crazy when Richie started talking dirty to him, started telling him how good he was. Eddie arched his back again, trying desperately to find some friction against his cock. It brushed against Richie’s stomach lightly, but it did nothing to ease the throbbing.

“Please, Richie,” Eddie said, his voice shaking from pleasure and pure breathlessness. Because Richie could always be counted on to take his breath away – in an entirely good way. It wasn’t frantic gasping for air as he reached for his inhaler, but deep and contented breaths, because Richie made him feel _so good_. So good, like Myra never could.

“What?” Richie asked. “Fuck, god. What do you want, baby?” His own breath was growing heavy and ragged, a sure sign that he was quickly getting to the edge.

“I want – fuck,” Eddie gasped out, trying to make sense out of the muddled mess his brain was quickly becoming, lost in sensations of pleasure. “Touch me. I want – I _need_ you to – _ah_ – touch me. _Please_.”

Richie immediately reached down between them, gripping Eddie’s throbbing erection in his hand. Eddie let out a heavy breath, not quite having realized just how hard he had become. He thrust up into Richie’s hand, broken cries flooding from his lips. Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around Richie’s neck, pulling him down closer as Richie continued to pound into him.

“Are – are you close, baby?” Richie asked, his pace becoming ridiculously frenzied as he continued to fist Eddie’s cock in his big and warm hand.

Eddie took a shuddering breath, because a deep pressure had settled into his stomach, and it was almost suddenly too much. Too much because it made a ridiculously overwhelming feeling explode in his chest at everything he was feeling – Richie’s cock pounding into his ass, Richie’s strong arm wrapped firmly and possessively around his waist, Richie’s hand around his cock, and Richie’s heavy breathing against his skin. His entire being was just _Richie_ all around him, making him feeling _so fucking good_. Just _Richie_ and _good_ are the only two words Eddie felt capable of thinking right then, and a moment later, he let out another sob, because _Richie_. Just _Richie_.

Eddie nodded, his mind slowly responding to the question that Richie had asked. “Yeah,” Eddie moaned. “Please. Don’t stop. So close.” Eddie wasn’t even sure if he was making sense anymore, because his words were punctuated with sobs. He kissed Richie again, Richie’s lips wet and salty against his, and Eddie wasn’t sure if it was from tears or from sweat, but perhaps it was a little bit of both.

Richie let out a growl of intense pleasure as he thrust deeply and firmly into Eddie, his hips completely flush with Eddie’s ass. Eddie could feel Richie’s cock pulsing inside him, spilling out his orgasm just before he picked up his movements again. He kept driving into Eddie, riding out his orgasm and fisting Eddie’s cock in time with movements.

It only took a couple more thrusts before Eddie choked out another cry, and then he came, his own release splashing out against Richie’s hand and the space between them.

The space between them, though, Eddie was pretty sure didn’t even exist anymore, because so much of him was Richie. So much of him was this big, strong, amazing man who had just finished inside him and was still staring down at Eddie like he was the most amazing thing he had ever laid eyes on. Eddie tightened his grip around the back of Richie’s neck, wanting desperately for Richie to know how he felt. That they weren’t two people anymore; they were one, because Eddie had never felt so completely intertwined and wrapped up with another human being in his life.

Richie had released Eddie’s waist and brought his hand up to Eddie’s cheek again, rubbing his thumb across Eddie’s skin. When Richie spoke again, it was then that Eddie knew he had been crying.

“I love you,” Richie said, his voice wobbling with emotion. He let out a small sob and Eddie could see a tear spilling down his cheek. Richie was quivering, and Eddie thought the man was only a few seconds away from breaking down completely in front of him.

Eddie smiled, leaning up to kiss the tear from Richie’s skin. “I love you, Richie. So much. Was it…was it as good for you?” he asked as he swallowed hard.

“Oh my fucking god,” Richie gasped out, somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “You are so beautiful, and amazing, and you’re always so good for me. Always so good. Was my reaction not enough evidence for you?”

Eddie giggled and shook his head. “No, it was, I just like to make sure.”

“So good,” Richie repeated, kissing lazily at Eddie’s jaw. “Are you _sure_ you have to go to work today?” Richie whined.

“Yeah, already told you,” Eddie sighed. “I would get out of it if could.”

“We could have so much more fun here.”

“Mm,” Eddie hummed, thinking about all the possible different ways they could get each other to orgasm in the next fourteen hours or so. “Tomorrow’s Saturday though. If that’s something you’re interested in exploring…” He trailed off, grinning up at Richie.

“Is that a promise?”

“You have no idea,” Eddie said, sprinkling kisses against Richie’s lips.

“Tomorrow,” Richie said, firmly planting his lips over Eddie’s and kissing him deeply one last time.

In hindsight, Eddie was thankful for the last time they had made love, for the way Richie had held him as they did so, for the way Richie had looked at him, before their entire world was about to be turned upside down. Because in the end, tomorrow would never come.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was just getting dark when Richie’s phone lit up with Eddie’s name, like a beacon in the steadily growing darkness. Richie had been typing away on his laptop, absurd amounts of inspiration coursing through him after Eddie had left for work. Richie had completed nearly five thousand words of his next project, because amazing sex with Eddie apparently good for his muse. Who knew?

Richie wasn’t even sure what this ‘project’ was, but his manager was just happy he was working again. After such a long break following the fact that he had nearly fallen apart on stage, and the fact that he had pretty much disappeared altogether left many wondering about his state of mind. There had been rumors about Richie going on a drunken and/or drug-induced bender, but those had been greatly exaggerated. Or perhaps not exaggerated enough, because it was really just due to a fucking space clown. And realizing that the love of his life shared in his feelings.

Richie’s life had been a whirlwind since then – coming out, and working it into his show, and moving Eddie to LA while he got his divorce moving, and finally settling into some semblance of normal life now that they were married. Things were calming down now, and maybe that was conducive to Richie’s inspiration too. He wasn’t sure.

Either way, his manager was excited to read whatever it was that Richie was working on, and he said they’d figure out what to do with it afterwards. Shop it around as a special maybe, or perhaps work it into another stand-up routine. Richie was fucking thrilled at the freedom he felt when left to work on what he wanted, on _his own material_ , and he was just as excited to see what came out of it.

“Spaghetti!” Richie said as he accepted the call from Eddie.

“I was just calling to see what you wanted for dinner,” Eddie grumbled, “so if that’s your answer…” He trailed off.

“Hm,” Richie hummed in thought. “Are you getting takeout?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Sorry it’s so fucking late. I got to working on those reports and-“

“You lost track of time in the exciting world of risk analysis,” Richie concluded, nodding. “I know. I actually lost track of time myself. Working on some good material here.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck you,” Eddie spat out. “Second of all, that’s great! I know how much more accomplished you feel when you’re working.”

“Yeah,” Richie sighed happily. “I don’t know what it’s going to be yet, but it’s something.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“All due to you, Eds.”

“Me? The fuck did I do?”

Richie thought he could hear the soft beep of a car alarm being turned off on the other end of the line and a moment later, a car door slammed. Richie could imagine Eddie crawling into his car after a long day, leaning back against the seat in a brief moment of relaxation.

“You’re my inspiration,” Richie said, grinning. “It seems to strike me after we have _really good sex_.”

Eddie didn’t say anything right away, but when he did, Richie could tell he was smiling. “It was really that good, huh?”

Richie scoffed, because that might have been the stupidest question Eddie had ever asked him. “Earth-shattering is more like it.”

“And we’re on for tomorrow, right?” Eddie asked. “See if we can outdo it?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible, Eds, but I definitely want to try. Because it’ll be a hell of a lot of fun either way.”

Eddie giggled on the other end and said, “So dinner…? I’m leaving work now.”

“Um,” Richie hummed, then he huffed out a breath of laughter. “Mexican, because maybe it’ll help spice shit up for tomorrow.”

Eddie snorted. “Like we need any help with that. Any spicier and we’d be on fire.”

“That’s the next step.”

“Should I pick up a fire extinguisher too?”

“Just my usual burritos. And yourself. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“And antacids if we’re planning on having sex tomorrow.”

“Have those already, my dear Spagheds.”

“Oh yes,” Eddie said dryly, “because you’re so full of hot air.”

Richie laid a hand over his chest and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling, even though Eddie couldn’t see it. He swiveled back and forth in his chair, reveling in how fucking perfect he and Eddie were together. How perfectly they fit together and _completed_ each other. How _easily_ their banter rolled off of each other.

“Ouch,” Richie complained. “You keep that up, I’m going to take tomorrow’s offer for sex off the table.”

Eddie snorted loudly into the phone. “No, you won’t. You’ll make it until about noon before you give in, because you’re so ‘sexually frustrated’.”

“I was a sexually repressed gay guy for my entire life!” Richie cried. “Now that I have a husband who’s just as sexually frustrated, fuck yeah, I am.”

“I’m not sexually frustrated.”

“Because you and Myra had such a fulfilling sex life.”

“Fuck off.”

“So you’ll be home in about a half an hour, forty minutes?”

“Yeah, depending on the line at the restaurant and the traffic,” Eddie said, “but it shouldn’t be too bad. I just missed rush hour.”

“Okay,” Richie said. “Want to Netflix and chill then after we eat?”

“That sounds fucking amazing. Just what I need after a day of boring reports.”

“You love them, and you know it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Eds,” Richie replied warmly, his heart clenching at Eddie’s words. “I’m going to do some more writing before you get here, because I’m on a roll.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Richie set his phone back down on his desk, smiling down at it happily until the light faded from the screen. Richie turned his attention back to his laptop then, only pausing for a moment before his fingers took off in a flurry of inspiration again.

He had ended up losing track of time again, completing nearly another thousand words on his project, until a noise broke him out of his thoughts. Richie hadn’t quite registered it, but a quick glance at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen told him that Eddie should be arriving home.

Richie pushed his chair back from the desk and made his way out from the second bedroom that he used as an office and Eddie used as a home gym. Richie stretched as he made his way down the hall towards the kitchen, almost expecting to see Eddie placing a takeout bag down on the island counter. But no one was there. And an eerie silence met his ears.

“Eds?” Richie called, listening for any sign that Eddie was home – the soft beep of his car alarm, the turning of his key in the lock, the opening of the door.

Richie frowned, not quite sure what he had heard earlier now. He had been far too deep in his work to fully process it, but he was pretty sure it had been the front door slamming. Hadn’t it?

“Eds?” Richie asked again, but still no answer came.

Swallowing hard, Richie continued down the hall. He looked to his left at the living room, completely still and empty, except for the twinkling lights of the city and the moving cars beyond the windows. He glanced to his right next, at the darkened den that had basically become a library for their ridiculously out-of-hand collection of books, video games, and movies.

Richie continued onto the front door, and that was when he saw it – the front door stood slightly ajar. At first, Richie didn’t think anything of it. Eddie had just come in and hadn’t closed it all the way. Or maybe he had forgotten something in the car and had run back out to get it. Yeah, that was where Eddie was. Richie stepped forward and reached out for the front door, fully intending to peek out at the driveway to see if Eddie’s Cadillac was there, but he didn’t quite get that far.

It was then that he noticed that the deadbolt on the front door didn’t look quite right. It was in the locked position, even though the door was open, and was that a bit of missing paint from the edge of the door? A glance at the doorframe confirmed his suspicions, because a large piece of wood was missing there too.

Richie swallowed down his fear, his eyes quickly going to the den and then back to the living room, searching for any sign of movement. Richie’s hand then went down to his pocket, reaching for his phone, but then he realized that he had left it sitting on the desk in his bedroom.

“ _Shit_ ,” Richie muttered under his breath. He turned around and scrambled for the kitchen, fully intending on finding a good, sharp knife to defend himself with should it come to that, but his path to the kitchen was blocked.

A man stood before him dressed head to toe in black. He had a black baseball cap on as well, with a white LA Dodgers logo on the front. His black hoodie was pulled up around it, the strings tied tightly around his face. But Richie still got a good look at him – dark eyes, brown hair peeking out from underneath his hat, a full beard that was obscuring most of the rest of his face, and a nose that begged for apocalypse.

“Damn, man,” Richie spurted out, because he was the Trashmouth, and it was what he did, _especially_ when he was scared shitless. “Who beat you with an ugly stick?” 

The man drew back for a moment, but only for a moment. His eyes narrowed at Richie as he asked, “Is anyone else here?”

Richie frantically shook his head, wishing he could find words, but none came. Oh shit. Had this man heard him calling for Eddie? Was he waiting until Eddie came home so that he could kill two birds with one stone? Oh god, _Eddie_.

“There’s…um, money in my wallet by the door,” Richie finally stammered out. “You can have whatever’s in it.”

The man in front of him laughed, a deep and ugly sound, like he only found enjoyment in others’ suffering. “We didn’t come here for wallet money.”

 _We_. This made Richie’s heart jump up into his throat, because there was more than one person here. Richie started to turn around, trying to see where this other person was, but then he spotted the door out of the corner of his eye. Could he make it there and run for it before these guys could catch him?

Richie, however, didn’t have the chance to find out, because a moment later, someone had grabbed him from behind. Someone larger, and taller, and stronger than him had grabbed his arms, pulling them behind him with so much force, Richie could only muster a groan in response.

Richie was forcefully turned around to face the man who was still standing in the pathway to the kitchen. Trying to swallow down the lump that was burning in his throat now, Richie said, “Take whatever you want. I don’t care. I…I’d offer you my Mustang, but it’s in the shop.”

“Now, see,” the man before him said, taking a few steps closer to Richie, “that’s false advertising. When both cars are gone, that typically means _no one’s home_.”

There was definitely no one home somewhere, but Richie clamped his mouth closed. He had already insulted this man once, and he was probably already pushing his luck. And oh shit, this man knew that there were typically two cars in the driveway, so what else did he know? Did he also know exactly whose house this was and was he there for a specific purpose?

“I told you, take whatever you want,” Richie said frantically. “I won’t stop you. I don’t…really have anything _nice_ , but…if you want it, you can have it.” Richie paused, not sure if that was a good thing to tell these men or not. “There's a Blu-ray player, and a PS4 - are those even a thing anymore? Isn't the PS5 out now?" When Richie didn't get a response, he added, "And there's two TVs, and…and…”

Richie trailed off, because he had been about to offer up his laptop, but quickly decided against it. His fucking _work_ was on there, and goddamn these men if they thought they could have that. It wasn’t even that special of a laptop, already two years old, but it got the job done, so Richie was pretty sure they wouldn’t want it anyway.

Really, he and Eddie had never been that interested in extravagant things. The only possessions they had spent a good amount of money on were their cars and their house, and they liked it that way. The only other thing that Richie could think of that had any value was the platinum and diamond wedding band that sat on his ring finger. _Oh shit_ , Richie thought, because they could have absolutely anything, but he didn’t want them to take his wedding ring. Richie knew that his life might very well be lying on the line here, but they couldn’t have his wedding ring that symbolized his union with Eddie. They couldn’t!

Richie knew it was dumb, knew it was just a ring, but he curled his left hand into a fist behind his back where the unseen man was holding them firm. He tried to hide the ring with his thumb, hoping that neither of these men could see it. Because his and Eddie’s rings were sacred, and they belonged to _them_. No one else.

“But you’ve seen me now,” the man before him said. “That’s a problem.”

Richie found himself shaking his head again, squeaking out a nervous reply. When he realized he ended up sounding like a fucking mouse, and the man in front of him looked rather amused, Richie cleared his throat. “I won’t…tell anyone,” Richie promised. “Take whatever you want and…and you can leave. I’ve already forgotten what you look like.”

“Now why don’t I believe you?” the man asked.

“It’s the truth,” Richie gasped out. “I’ve…I’ve never been good with faces. I have…trouble remembering my own sometimes, and that’s probably a good thing.” Richie tried to force a laugh next, but he didn’t know if he was successful or not.

“It’s a shame that you made a comment about mine then,” the man with brown hair said, searching Richie’s face. “I feel like you’ve already committed it to memory.”

“N-no,” Richie muttered. “I won’t even say anything. I won’t call the police or an-anything.” Richie wished he could get the shaking in his voice under control, but it was now quivering so much, he realized it was a lost cause. He was _scared to death_ , and there was no way he was going to get these guys to believe otherwise. Again, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Richie thought about Bill, about the fact that he would make a joke about Richie not even being able to spit his words out now. But then in the end, Richie wasn’t so sure that Bill would feel that way at all, because Bill would probably be scared to death _for_ him.

Richie’s thoughts went to Eddie next, about how his husband was still on his way home. A tiny part of Richie hoped that he would get to see Eddie one last time before he died, because he wasn’t sure any longer that he was going to make it out of this, but no. In the end, Richie hoped that Eddie stayed far away, at least until these assholes were gone. Eddie, the love of his life, needed to be okay, and Richie was pretty sure he wouldn’t be if he showed up now.

“There’s only one way to be sure you won’t say anything though,” the man in front of him asked, “isn’t there?”

Richie had known long before those words were spoken that he was doomed, but the man’s words made a feeling like a brick settle into the middle of his chest. Richie’s only thought now was Eddie – his sweet, perfect Eddie coming home to find Richie dead and bleeding in the hallway of their home together.

Eddie had already been through so much, and what kind of effect would losing his husband of just six months have on him? He had been so fucked up before (in fact, they all had), and Eddie was only now beginning to move forward from the shit that both his mother and Myra had caused. Eddie was happier than Richie had ever seen him before, and Richie shuddered to think about the emotional fallout he would be consumed with if his husband was fucking murdered.

 _Eddie_.

At least Richie had told Eddie he loved him one last time. Thank god Eddie had called so that Richie could do that much. Could leave Eddie with that one last token to remind him that he _was_ loved. That Richie loved him _so fucking much_ , it overwhelmed him sometimes.

Richie also reminded himself that he and Eddie had gotten to make love to each other one last time that very morning. That it had turned into an unbelievable and emotional connection between them that they had been sure they would be chasing for the rest of their lives. At least Eddie had that much too.

Eddie _knew_. Eddie knew he was loved. Richie desperately wished that he could leave his husband with more, but this was the best Richie could do.

“I asked you a question!” the brown-haired man snapped, grabbing the front of Richie’s shirt and shaking him.

Richie was suddenly fucking furious, because he was thinking about his husband. He was thinking of Eddie, and nothing was more important to him than that. These men were going to kill Richie – he had absolutely no doubt of that now – and he wanted his last thoughts to be of Eddie. Not these assholes.

“Fuck you,” Richie said, and that was probably a stupid thing to say, but he didn’t care. He was through trying to cooperate with these men. He had already offered them (almost) everything in his house and promised that he wouldn’t say a thing to anybody, and it still wasn’t enough.

He was still going to die, and he wanted these men to know exactly what he thought of them.

In fact, fuck cooperating with these men at all, because what difference would it make? Richie could either surrender, and lie down, and die, or he could fucking fight. He could fucking fight for his life just like they had done with Pennywise. Twice. Really, what match were these two men against a fucking space clown? These men would probably run away with their tails between their legs if they saw that fucking thing.

“Seriously,” Richie bit out, “fuck you.”

Richie suddenly dug down deep and found that strength and bravery that had gotten him through his encounters with Pennywise. That had resulted in him and Eddie confessing their love for each other, and their now very satisfying sex life.

Richie pulled forward with every single ounce of his being, desperately trying to break the grasp that the man had around his arms. Richie didn’t quite succeed in fully freeing himself, but had managed to free one of his hands. He pulled it away and twisted around in the man’s death grip, swinging out his free hand in an attempt to hit one of them.

Richie felt his hand connect with the brown-haired man somewhere – he wasn’t entirely sure if it was in his face or maybe his chest – before Richie caught one quick glance of the other man. He was a bit heavier, stockier, and shorted than his companion, but he was wearing the same dark clothes. This man’s hair was darker, almost black, and Richie scrambled to remember anything striking about him, but he couldn’t quite do it. Couldn’t quite get his brain to cooperate with him in its current state of panic.

The brown-haired man was tugging at him now, and Richie almost lost his footing. The world around him blurred as he was shoved backwards again. Again, Richie tried to twist out of the grip the heavier man had on him, but it was useless; the man had realized his mistake in allowing Richie to free one arm, and he certainly wasn’t going to let it happen again.

The man behind Richie shoved him hard in the back, effectively knocking all the air from his lungs. Richie stumbled forward a bit and bent over, struggling to gasp for air. But then one of the men – Richie wasn’t sure who anymore – hit him squarely in the back of the head. He wasn’t sure if the man hit him with a fist or a weapon, but either way, it made black stars dance across his field of vision for a brief moment.

When was sure he wasn’t going to pass out, Richie tried sucking in another breath of air. It rushed into his lungs in a loud wheeze, and he twisted in the man’s grasp once again. Then, just as Richie had regained his footing and was nearly standing upright, he felt another shove in his back. Richie lurched forward, his free hand flying out to try and grab anything, but his fingers only reached for air.

He was falling forward, he realized, the ground rushing up to meet him. Only he never made it to the ground. Something very hard connected with his head with excruciating force. Richie opened his mouth in a silent scream of pain, and those black stars were dancing in front of his eyes again. His head exploded in agony, pain throbbing through his brain like a dam had broken loose.

Richie tried his best to find his footing, to try and get his feet underneath him before he met the floor, but it was no use. His limbs suddenly felt like they were heavy with cement, weighing him down, and almost making him wish for sleep. Or death. Even so, Richie strained to keep his eyes open, and the very last thing he saw was his and Eddie’s wedding picture hanging in their hallway. Richie with his shit-eating grin and Eddie with his slightly demurer, but no less happy smile. Eddie with his head resting on Richie’s shoulder looking like he was the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

The floor was still rushing up to meet him, almost like he was falling in slow motion, and then everything went black.

_To be continued…_


	2. Bleeding Out

When Eddie pulled into the driveway in front of his and Richie’s house, he turned off his car and immediately grabbed his briefcase and takeout bag from the passenger’s seat. He couldn’t do anything to stifle the spring in his step as he made his way to the door, and he only vaguely registered that he might have looked a little bit ridiculous – a grown man in a suit nearly skipping in his driveway – but he didn’t care. He and Richie were going to have dinner together and watch some TV while they cuddled on the couch. And then tomorrow…

Grinning, Eddie transferred both his briefcase and the takeout bag to one hand while he found to the key to the front door on his keyring. He had nearly made it to the front steps before he had an inkling that anything was wrong.

Just before he started climbing the three steps to the door, he looked up and saw that the front door was standing a few inches open. A small pillar of light from inside was spilling out over the front porch. Eddie frowned, because they normally didn’t leave the front door open; Eddie was paranoid and with Richie being mildly famous, locked doors and windows gave Eddie at least a little peace of mind.

The only time they would leave the door open was if they were running out to their car for a second, going to get the mail, or sitting out on the front porch. Richie must have decided to come outside and wait for Eddie, but one look around the yard told Eddie that Richie was nowhere in sight.

“Rich?” Eddie called, but only the sound of crickets and passing cars in the distance met his ears.

Richie must have come outside for a minute and had forgotten to close the door on his way back in. That was all, and Eddie was going to flip shit on Richie, because all it took was a moment of carelessness for something to happen.

Eddie climbed the steps and pushed the front door open a few more inches. The very first thing he saw was a large piece of wood missing from the doorframe around where the deadbolt would go. Scanning his eyes over the floor, he saw the splintered piece of wood laying just beside the welcome mat. Eddie’s heart thumped hard in his chest, a deep frown forming on his face. He swallowed hard before pushing the door open the rest of the way.

At first, Eddie told himself that it was something stupid. Maybe Richie was trying to surprise him by buying a nice new doorknob and lock and changing it himself, and things had just gone awry, because…Richie. He often thought he could do things like this himself before figuring out that he was just not cut out for even the simplest of home improvement shit and should leave it to the professionals. Meanwhile, Eddie would tell him that he should stick to what he did best, which was ‘mediocre comedy’. They both knew, of course, that Eddie thought much more highly of Richie’s jokes, but he would never openly admit to it.

One glance down the entrance hall told Eddie that that was not the case at all.

Richie was lying flat on his stomach at the far end of the hall, his right cheek on the floor and his left hand brought up nearly to his mouth. His glasses sat askew on his face, his right arm and legs splayed around him and at first, Eddie assumed it must be his heart or something, because Eddie was constantly trying to get Richie to eat healthier and exercise with him. Richie had only just turned forty-two, so it was a bit young yet for heart trouble to start popping up, but stranger things had happened. Eddie didn’t even make the connection with the front door being damaged, and maybe it was the shock of coming home and finding his husband in such a position. In fact, Eddie’s brain felt ridiculously calm right now, and that was probably from the shock too.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, his voice cracking. He stepped a little farther into the entryway before he saw it and exploded into a flurry of panic and fear.

This was not a fucking heart attack, because a pool of deep crimson blood had spread out around the back of Richie’s head like a halo. Eddie hadn’t seen it at first, because Richie’s out-of-control curls had been obscuring it. Then Eddie realized that blood was also seeping from Richie’s mouth, forming a smaller saliva-slick puddle just under his chin.

Eddie dropped the contents in his hands, his briefcase, the takeout bag, and his keys all hitting the floor with a startling thump. Flying forward, Eddie nearly slid over the hardwood floor, falling to his knees in front of his husband. He reached a hand out, placing it atop Richie’s back, checking to see if he was breathing. He was, and Eddie could still feel the beat of Richie’s heart there too.

“RICHIE?” Eddie nearly screamed, hoping that Richie would open his eyes and look at him. Look at him with those big, gorgeous blue eyes that Eddie loved staring into so much. Even though Eddie knew that wouldn’t happen. “Oh, shit. Fuck. What the fuck?” Eddie started spouting off, because his mind couldn’t quite process everything that was happening. “What the fuck happened?” Eddie knew that his questions were pointless too, because no one was going to answer him. “ _Richie_?”

Eddie withdrew his hand from Richie’s back and reached for his pocket instead, digging out his cell phone. His hands were shaking as he dialed 911 and waited for someone to pick.

“Oh, Jesus, fuck,” Eddie muttered under his breath as he waited, his free hand going up to his forehead. “Come on.”

At long last, the phone stopped ringing and an operator came on the line. “Los Angeles County 911. May I have the address of your emergency?”

Eddie blinked stupidly for a minute, because he had to stop and think about his current address. He had only been living in LA for a little over a year, and sometimes, he still had the urge to give his New York address when someone asked for his current residence. Eddie almost thought he would have to run outside and check the numbers on the mailbox, because why wasn’t his brain working right now?

But then a moment later, something clicked into place and he spat out his and Richie’s address like he might forget it again if he didn’t get it out right this very second.

“And the phone number you’re calling from?” the operator asked next.

Again, that was a struggle, because how was he supposed to remember a string of numbers when his husband was lying on the floor bleeding in front of him? Besides, didn’t the 911 operators have fucking Caller ID on their phones? But Eddie knew they were just doing their jobs and they had a procedure to follow, and he finally got out his phone number as well.

“And your name?” the operator asked.

At least Eddie knew that one. “Eddie. Kaspbrak.”

“Tell me exactly what happened, Mr. Kaspbrak,” the operator said next.

“I – I don’t _know_ ,” Eddie said, letting out an exasperated breath. Why did he have to answer so many fucking questions he didn’t know the answers to? “I need an ambulance! I just got home from work and my husband – he was lying on the floor bleeding. From his head, I think. I don’t _know_ what happened!”

“Okay,” the operator responded, and Eddie heard typing of computer keys on the other end of the line. “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Richie Tozier.”

“How old is he?”

“Forty-two.”

“Is he conscious?”

“No!”

“Is he still breathing?”

“Yes,” Eddie said, his free hand going to Richie’s back once again. It was still rising and falling, although it seemed small and faint. “It’s shallow, but he’s still breathing.”

“And you think he’s bleeding from his head?”

“Y-yes,” Eddie said, his voice suddenly started to shake. He had been sitting on the heels of his shoes, but he pushed himself up so that he could see around the back of Richie’s head. And then he wished he hadn’t. The dark hair at the back of his head was soaked through with blood, and was that a piece of skull sticking out? Eddie closed his eyes as a wave of nausea washed over him and he said, “The back of his head – it’s…it’s bleeding.”

“He may have sustained a head injury,” the operator said, “so don’t move him.”

“I know,” Eddie replied robotically, because he wasn’t a fucking moron, nor was he a stranger to first aid.

“Does it look like he fell or did he get hit somehow?”

That was really the first time that Eddie started thinking about what exactly had happened. He had been far too wrapped up in Richie’s injury itself to think about it, but now that the operator mentioned it, something in Eddie’s mind clicked.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie muttered, his eyes going to up and back towards the door. To the little spliter of wood laying by the welcome mat. “Oh, shit. I think – I think someone was in here!” Eddie cried out, his voice rising in intensity. “The front door – the lock is broken!”

“Is the intruder still there?”

Eddie thought that was the stupidest question known to mankind. Obviously, if a stranger was still in the house, Eddie would have mentioned it already! If he felt like he was under threat of any kind, he wouldn’t be sitting on the floor with all of his attention focused on Richie.

“I don’t know!” Eddie screamed. “ _I don’t know_! I don’t see anyone! I don’t hear anything! _I don’t know_! I would have said something before now if I did!”

“Okay, Mr. Kaspbrak,” the operator told him, clearly trying to calm him down with her cool tone. “What I want you to do is find something for your husband’s head. Do you have any gauze or washcloths that you could put on his wound? Towels are okay too, but we want to minimize the amount of movement he sustains, so the smaller, the better.”

“Gauze,” Eddie said immediately, because of course he did. “I have gauze.” He pushed himself up on wobbly feet, and that was when he realized he had started gasping for air somewhere along the way. It was coming heavy and loud, and the operator must have heard it.

“Are you all right, Mr. Kaspbrak?

“Asthma,” Eddie gasped, making his way through the kitchen and to the ensuite bathroom off the master bedroom. “I have asthma,” Eddie told her, even though he knew he didn’t. He had fucking anxiety, which Richie had helped him to realize since they had gotten together. He had anxiety and panic attacks, and his inhalers were nothing more than a fucking gazebo.

“Do you have an inhaler?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie said, pulling open the cupboard underneath the sink. This was where they kept all their first aid items, including band-aids, bandages, medical tape, scissors, instant ice packs, gloves, antiseptic solutions, and cotton balls among other shit, because Eddie was nothing if not prepared. He rifled through the supplies, knocking half of them out on the floor because his hands were shaking so badly. Eddie reached farther in the back for his large roll of gauze, and that was when his hand closed around the spare inhaler he’d thrown back there months ago. One of the inhalers that he hadn’t touched in ages, but just couldn’t bring himself to get rid of. Just in case.

“I’m fine,” Eddie repeated, tossing his inhaler to the floor along with everything else. This wasn’t about _him_ , this was about _Richie_ , and Eddie didn’t want to waste a spare second using an inhaler _he didn’t need_. “I have gauze,” Eddie said as he finally found the large roll he knew would come in handy one day. He grabbed the medical scissors next before getting back up on shaking legs and running back for the entryway.

At least, Eddie _tried_ to run, but he didn’t know if he was successful. His legs were way too unsteady to support him properly, and he felt like he was going to keel over at any moment. His dress shoes kept sliding around on the hardwood floor, so that wasn’t helping matters either. Any onlooker might have assumed he was drunk from his staggered movements.

And then a horrible idea struck Eddie, and he felt that wave of nausea take hold of his stomach once again. What if Richie died while Eddie had been ransacking the bathroom cabinet, and Eddie returned to find that Richie wasn’t breathing any longer? What if Richie had died alone and it was all because Eddie had left him for _one minute_ to try and find something to _help him_? Oh god, what if?

When Eddie returned to the hallway, the first thing he did was kneel back down in front of Richie. Dropping his medical supplies, Eddie’s immediately reached out for Richie’s back again to ensure that it was still moving with his labored breathing. It was, but was the movement even smaller and more minute than when Eddie had checked the first time? Maybe, but he wasn’t sure.

“I’m here, Rich,” Eddie said quietly, reaching for his gauze again. “I have gauze.”

“Mr. Kaspbrak,” the operator said, “I want you to _very carefully_ start layering the gauze over where he’s bleeding. If it sticks, _do not_ pull it away. If it becomes saturated, _gently_ apply more over top of it. Can you do that?”

“I can do that,” Eddie said, more to himself than to the operator. Then he started rolling out a square of gauze and tried to cut it off with shaking hands. That proved easier said than done, especially with the thick fabric and the fucking shitty medical scissors that could barely cut through paper. Eddie resorted to ripping through the last strings of gauze out of pure frustration, because fuck the damn scissors.

Eddie wasn’t even sure how to approach Richie’s wound, because the back of his head was near the wall and the floor there was entirely saturated with blood. Eddie set the phone down on the floor by his knee before propping himself against with wall with one hand. He leaned over Richie, gently pressing the gauze against the wound at the back of his head.

All at once, the gauze turned red as it soaked through with blood, and Eddie could feel it covering his fingers as well.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie wheezed, pulling his blood-soaked hand away from the wound. Just the sight of the blood – _Richie’s_ blood on his fingers made him feel slightly dizzy, like the hallway was suddenly spinning around him. Jesus Christ, this sort of thing didn’t bother him, so why was he feeling this way? And the only explanation he could come up with was because this was _Richie_. This was the man he loved more than anyone else on the planet, and Eddie didn’t know if he was going to make it or not.

“Mr. Kaspbrak?” the operator asked, and until that moment, Eddie had forgotten about her completely. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s bleeding profusely,” Eddie said. “It…it soaked through the gauze in seconds. _Seconds_. Oh god, _Richie_.”

“That’s all right,” the operator said. “Leave it there and apply another square. Can you do that?”

Eddie wanted to scream at her that it most definitely was _not_ all right, because his husband was lying in a pool of his own blood and could very well be _dying_! His husband could be dying at this very second, and there was nothing Eddie could do to stop it, except to keep applying fucking squares of gauze that were probably doing fuck all for the injury that Richie had.

“Y-yeah,” Eddie said instead. “I…I am. I have gauze.”

It was another hellish thirty seconds or so before Eddie managed to cut and rip off another square of gauze. Much like the first one, it immediately soaked through with blood and stuck to the back of Richie’s head, so Eddie wasn’t even sure what good he was doing. He almost thought that the operator had him doing this as a means to distract him so he wouldn’t sit down and have a fucking nervous breakdown.

“Are you sending someone?” Eddie demanded as he went back for another piece of bandage.

“Yes, Mr. Kaspbrak,” the operator told him. “I have an ambulance and a police officer en route. They should be there shortly. Do you want me to stay on the line with you?”

“Oh, god, yes,” Eddie blurted out, because the thought of being here alone was actually terrifying to him. What if Richie died and there was nothing he could do? What if whoever had done this came back and finished Eddie off too? “Yes, please stay on the line with me,” Eddie pleaded as he felt tears spring to life in his eyes. “I don’t…I don’t want to be here alone.”

Eddie knew he wasn’t alone, not really, because he was here with Richie, but who knew how much longer that would last? His husband might die and Eddie would be left here all alone then. Completely and utterly alone.

“I’m staying on the line with you, Mr. Kaspbrak,” the operator said. “Is he still breathing?”

“Y-yes,” Eddie said shakily, applying yet another piece of gauze to the back of Richie’s head that soon became saturated. He almost wanted to give up on the fucking gauze, because it felt entirely fruitless to him at this point. He just wanted to hold Richie and talk to him, because Eddie was terrified that he wouldn’t get much longer to do so.

“Please,” Eddie whimpered as he felt the tears in his eyes begin to stream down his face. “Rich, please.” Abandoning the gauze, Eddie reached out for Richie’s left hand then, which was curled up in a loose fist near his mouth. It was almost like Richie had realized he was bleeding there in his last moments of consciousness and had maybe reached up to try and see exactly where the blood was coming from.

Eddie let his own left hand cover Richie’s, laying it exactly over his husband’s, their platinum and diamond wedding rings touching each other.

“I’m here, Rich,” Eddie said quietly. “Hang in there, okay?” Eddie hiccupped in a breath as a sob wracked through him. “Please. Please don’t leave me, okay? You…you said we were going to grow old together and we were going to make up for all the time we lost.” Eddie gasped in sharply as another sob threatened to spill out of him. “A…year and a half isn’t enough. I _need_ you. P- _please_.”

Just then, Eddie thought he felt Richie’s hand twitch the slightest bit inside his. A moment later, Eddie assumed his mind had been playing tricks on him, wanting so desperately to get a reaction from Richie, but then something else happened.

“Ehh,” Richie grumbled from somewhere deep in his throat. At first, Eddie thought it was just a groan of pain, but then another sound followed. “Sss,” Richie hissed out, a bubble of blood forming and then bursting on his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” Eddie gasped out around another sob. His bottom lip was quivering and curling into a frown, the tears pouring down his cheeks freely. “I’m here. Your Eds is here. Stay with me, okay? I’m not going anywhere. An ambulance is coming and I’m going to ride with you, okay? And I’ll be there in the hospital too. I’m right here.”

“Mr. Kaspbrak?” the operator asked. “The police officer is less than a mile away, okay? Please make sure to secure any pets that are in the house.”

Eddie wanted to ask who the fuck cared about pets right now, but again, he tried to remind himself that it was procedure. They were probably looking out for the first responders themselves, making sure they wouldn’t get bitten or anything, as well as for the pets themselves to make sure they wouldn’t run outside or something in the confusion.

“We don’t…have any pets,” Eddie replied, and that made him start crying harder. Richie had wanted a pet since they had moved in together, but Eddie had been opposed to the idea. They tracked dirt and germs around the house, and maybe that had been very dumb on Eddie’s part. What if they’d had a dog and he had been able to alert Richie to an intruder in the house? What if the dog even tried to _protect_ Richie? He could have attacked the intruder before any of this had even happened. Hell, Eddie had even heard of cats going to great feats to protect their owners.

“Okay, the police officer will be there within a minute and the ambulance isn’t too far behind him,” the operator said. “They’ll be there soon.”

Eddie didn’t know how much time had passed since he had called 911, but it felt like an eternity. It felt he had been sitting here for hours upon hours while Richie bled out next to him. Bled out and died.

“Oh, god, please,” Eddie whispered, leaning down so that his face was hovering near Richie’s. “Stay with me, Richie, because I need you, okay? I don’t know what I would do without you. I…I just want a million more mornings like the one we had today. Lying in bed, and cuddling, and making love,” Eddie finished with a sob, wiping the sleeve of his free arm over his wet face. Eddie was vaguely aware that the operator was still on the line, but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to care. All that mattered right now was Richie, and fuck what the operator may hear. Eddie and Richie were fucking married and married couples had sex, so why should he even have to try and hide that fact?

“I…brought dinner,” Eddie said then, remembering the forgotten takeout bag sitting on the floor near the door. “I got your burritos. We were going to Netflix and chill, remember?” Eddie said around a laugh. He and Richie both knew what ‘Netflix and chill’ really meant and what it was used for, but they had always meant it in the literal sense. When they were going to ‘Netflix and chill’, they were going to watch TV and fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. And that was all Eddie wanted right now – to lie in Richie’s arms and know that everything was all right. Not…live in this horrific nightmare that his life had suddenly detoured into.

What the fuck had even happened? How had things ended up here? How had Eddie gone from nearly skipping across their driveway to finding his husband dying on their floor? From making love to Richie this very morning to not knowing if Richie would ever speak to him again?

“Come back to me so we can do that again, okay?” Eddie asked. “Netflix and chill till the end of time.” Eddie leaned in farther to kiss Richie’s cheek, then he laid his free hand there, over the stubble he had just kissed, hoping that Richie could feel him there. Could feel the touch of Eddie’s lips lingering on his skin.

A moment later, Eddie saw flashing lights out of the corner of his eye. Glancing towards the door, Eddie could see a police car pulling up and stopping at the curb at the end of their front walk. Eddie still didn’t see an ambulance, and he wanted to ask the operator if they were taking their good old sweet time, but he didn’t. At least someone was there, and Eddie wasn’t by himself anymore.

When the police officer got to the door, he took a moment to take in the scene, looking down at the floor underneath him, and then to Eddie at the end of the hall. “Los Angeles County Police Department,” he said as he stepped over the threshold.

“Please help,” Eddie whimpered, feeling tears streaming down his cheeks in relief.

“Is the intruder still here?” the officer asked, his hand hovering over the gun in his belt.

Was everyone on the earth a fucking moron? Why did they keep asking him if the intruder was still there, like Eddie would be sitting defenseless in the middle of the hallway if they were? Eddie always thought Richie was the king of asinine questions, but this took the cake.

Eddie shook his head and said, “No, I don’t think so. I…I haven’t seen anyone since I came home. Just…my husband.” His gaze went back to Richie, because there was nothing else more important to be looking at.

“What’s his name?” the officer asked, joining Eddie next to Richie’s prone form.

“Richie,” Eddie replied, and one glace at the officer’s nametag told him that this was Officer Benson.

“Richie?” the policeman asked, bending over Richie’s head. “The ambulance is on its way, okay? It’ll be here soon.”

Eddie wanted to yell about the fact that he had been waiting for the fucking ambulance _forever_ , that the 911 operator had told him the same thing what felt like over an hour ago, but he knew that wouldn’t do any good. That was when Eddie remembered that the operator was still on the other end of the line and he said, “The p-police are here.”

“And the ambulance will be there momentarily,” the operator told him. “I’m going to go ahead and hang up with you now, Mr. Kaspbrak, okay?”

“O-okay,” Eddie said, even though he wanted to tell he that it wasn’t okay. For some bizarre reason, he desperately wanted this woman that he had been talking to to stay on the line with him. To keep talking to him, because he found her calm tone oddly soothing to him.

“Okay,” the operator replied. “Good luck to you.”

Eddie frowned deeply as ‘call ended’ appeared across his phone screen. The duration of the call was only eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds, so why had it felt like well over an hour? Also, seeing those words made it feel like something had broken inside Eddie. Like the fact that the call had ended was an omen or something. Like the fact that it was over might also signal the end of Richie’s life.

That thought made Eddie started sobbing again, and he hung his head over Richie’s body. Tears escaped from Eddie’s eyes, streamed down his cheeks, and splashed across the sleeve of Richie’s horrid orange and blue Hawaiian shirt. It was a blue background with orange flowers and sliced _oranges_ splashed across it, and Eddie always groaned whenever Richie pulled it out of the closet. All of his shirts were pretty fucking ugly, but this was one of the worst. Eddie abhorred it, but…now Eddie realized that he would never see Richie wearing it again. One of the shoulders was soaked through with blood from where his head was bleeding, and the first responders or the doctors would probably cut it off him anyway.

All of a sudden, Eddie’s entire chest started shaking as he cried, and he didn’t even care to feel embarrassed that someone was there with him. It was a police officer and he probably saw this sort of thing regularly, didn’t he?

Why did thinking about Richie’s ugly shirt of all things make Eddie want to cry anyway? Maybe because it reminded Eddie of all the hideous shirts hanging in Richie’s closet that he may never wear again. Or maybe he would, and Richie would mourn the loss of the ugliest orange and blue shirt that had been cut off of him.

Eddie’s thoughts then wandered back to the 911 operator and the fact that this was probably just another routine call for her. Did she ever wonder whatever happened to the people she talked to and helped on a daily basis? Did she just go on with her life like having someone die over the phone was _nothing_?

Why was Eddie even thinking about these stupid things? All that mattered right now was Richie, and Eddie was thinking about random strangers that he didn’t know and Richie’s ugly ass Hawaiian shirt collection.

Eddie let out a strangled sound at that, something between a laugh and a sob. A moment later, he felt a warm hand settle onto his shoulder.

“The ambulance is here,” Office Benson said, gesturing to the second set of flashing lights that had pulled up to their curb outside.

Oh god, Eddie had been so wrapped up in his own meandering train of thought that he hadn’t even noticed the ambulance outside. There were already two EMTs carrying a flat board across the threshold of the house, one male and the other female. The man’s boot brushed against the forgotten bag of takeout food that Eddie had dropped there so very long ago, and that made Eddie start crying anew. What in the hell was wrong with him?

Maybe it was because that food symbolized everything that he might never get to do with Richie ever again. They might never Netflix and chill again. They might never make love. They might never even kiss each other again, and that thought hurt the most.

Officer Benson wrapped an arm around Eddie’s, helping to pull him up off the ground so that the EMTs could get in and work. Eddie managed to grab his phone on the way up, and he stood there dumbly, his phone hanging at his side. Eddie felt like he should do _something_ , but he wasn’t sure what.

“Mr. Kaspbrak?” the woman EMT asked him. “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Richie.”

“Richie?” the woman asked, leaning over Richie. “Can you hear me?”

Eddie contained the urge to roll his eyes, because Richie had been fucking unconscious since he had arrived home! Other than muttering Eddie’s nickname and his hand barely twitching, he hadn’t managed to get any response out of Richie, so no! Richie couldn’t hear her!

“Does your husband have any existing conditions we need to be made aware of?” the male EMT asked.

Eddie contained the urge to say that Richie had an obviously horrid fashion sense and a shitty sense of humor, but he only shook his head.

“Is he on any prescription medications?”

Eddie shook his head again.

“Does he have any allergies?”

Eddie shook his head once more, and he felt like a fucking dumbass, because he couldn’t do _anything_.

“How old is he?”

“Forty-two.”

And this was so fucking stupid Eddie decided, because he had already shared some of this information with the 911 operator. Why did they have to waste time on repeating stupid shit like this?

The male paramedic had laid the flat board on the floor next to Richie, then looked to his partner. “Let’s slide him out from the wall a little and then we can flip him over onto his back.”

The woman cradled Richie’s head as her partner gently slid Richie away from the wall. They worked together to move him over onto his back, still cradling his head gently. The man pulled a neck brace from their bag next, and they fastened it around Richie’s neck before sliding him onto the flat board.

Now that Richie had been moved, Eddie could see the puddle of blood in its entirety, and he wished he couldn’t. It was larger than he had first thought, mostly obscured by Richie’s big ass head and fucking ridiculous hair, and there were weird-looking clots that had accumulated just under where Richie’s ear had been. Jesus Christ, what _was_ that?

The paramedics had laid a cloth underneath where Richie’s head was lying on the flat board, and that was already soaking through with blood too. Eddie could see it seeping into the white cotton fibers like Richie’s very life was draining out of him.

They took a moment to clip a heart monitor onto one of his fingers and the woman said, “Slightly elevated heartrate and shallow breathing.”

The man covered Richie’s face with an oxygen mask next and started squeezing the reservoir on the side. The woman ran for the door and returned with a stretcher a moment later. They wasted no time in placing Richie on the stretcher and beginning to wheel him towards the door.

“What hospital do you want him taken to?” the male EMT asked as they went.

“Cedars-Sinai,” Eddie immediately responded, because again, he was nothing if not prepared. He fucking knew the best and closest hospital to them in situations such as this. “I’m coming!” Eddie called after them, running to keep up. “Can I come?”

“You are permitted to ride in the front cab,” the male paramedic told him.

“Okay, I’m coming!” Eddie cried, only taking a moment to stoop down at the front door to pick up the keys he had dropped earlier.

“Mr. Kaspbrak!” the police office called after him. “We’d like to secure the scene and send a detective to speak to you, since you said this was a breaking and entering.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie said, because he really had no idea what they wanted from him. “Do whatever you need to. Please – please do what you can to catch the asshole that did this. I need to be with my husband though. Can…can someone talk to me at the hospital?”

The police officer only nodded once before he said, “Someone will be in touch.”

The ride to the hospital also seemed to last an eternity, and Eddie desperately wished he could have ridden in the back so that he could hold Richie’s hand and talk to him. Reassure him that he was there just like had done back in the hallway of their home.

Eddie found it weird to think of that place as their ‘home’ now though. A fucking stranger had been inside it and had tried hurt – maybe even kill – Richie. A home was supposed to be safe, and secure, and welcoming, and Eddie didn’t think that that place was anymore. He kind of doubted that Richie would either.

It was only a small, two-bedroom house anyway, and he and Richie had only planned to live there for a few years until Richie got back on track with his comedy and Eddie got established with his new company. They could afford better, maybe something with a pool, and Eddie decided that wherever they moved to needed to have a fucking wrought-iron fence, bars on the windows, and cameras, and security systems up the ass. And a guard dog. They would get that goddamn pet Richie always wanted.

But Eddie was getting ahead of himself and he knew it. Richie could be fucking dying, and Eddie was thinking about where they would move to next. He was thinking about ways to protect Richie when he hadn’t even been able to protect Richie now. Even if Richie did make it, he might have a long road to recovery ahead of him, and moving wasn’t even something Eddie should be thinking about.

Richie might not even be _around_ to move with him, and that thought made Eddie’s heart clench in his chest. At that thought, Eddie turned around in his seat, craning his neck to see Richie through the little window behind him.

He could see Richie’s tangled and bloody mess of curls on top of his head, and Eddie wondered if he would ever be able to run his fingers through those locks ever again. Richie didn’t even look like himself, immobilized with a neck brace and on a stretcher, because Richie was always so vibrant, and animated, and full of life. Full of fucking awful jokes that he failed to contain, and seeing him so…lifeless felt so wrong.

“How long have you two been married?” the female paramedic asked him as she blazed their way through the streets of Los Angeles.

Eddie stared at her for a moment like he didn’t quite know what she was asking. He hadn’t quite been expecting her to even try and make conversation with him, so he had to take a moment to fully understand her question. Ever since Eddie had been plunged into this nightmare, it felt like his brain was struggling to process everything the way it used to.

“Um…six…six months,” Eddie answered brokenly. “It’ll…it’ll be six months on April first.”

“How long have you known each other?”

It occurred to Eddie that much like the 911 operator, this woman was simply trying to distract him from what was happening, and for that, Eddie was grateful. Besides, it kind of made him feel better to talk about simple things like this.

“Um…a long time,” Eddie said around a small laugh. “Thirty-six years. But we fell out of touch after high school and we only reconnected a couple years ago. And…” Eddie broke off with another small laugh, wondering if this poor woman really wanted all of this information dumped on her. He turned to look out the windshield uncomfortably.

“Childhood sweethearts?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Eddie immediately answered, looking back at her in awe. “We admitted that we’d been in love with each other forever and…it was so dumb.” Staring back at windshield again, Eddie watched the streetlights, headlights, and taillights streaming past them in a barrage of colors. “We wasted so much time,” Eddie whispered. “So much time.”

They drove in silence the rest of the way until they arrived at the emergency room. Again, it struck Eddie just how dumb and useless he felt, because he couldn’t do _anything_. All he did was trail along after the stretcher as they wheeled Richie through the double doors and down a long hallway. Eddie wanted to follow them there too, but he knew they couldn’t. They needed room to work, and he would only be in the way. Even though Richie might be dying right now and it could be the last moments that Eddie would spend with him.

“Mr. Kaspbrak?” a woman asked from behind him a moment later. When he turned around, he saw a middle-aged woman with greying hair standing before him with a clipboard. “You came in with Richie Tozier, didn’t you? You’re his husband, correct?”

“Yes.”

“We have some consent forms for you to sign so that we can treat him.”

Aside from all the asinine questions everyone had already asked him, this was the dumbest thing ever. Weren’t they already _treating_ Richie? Why the fuck did they need _consent_ for this shit? That was why Richie was even there in the first place!

Eddie knew that he should read through whatever the fuck he was signing, but he couldn’t be assed to. His eyes were blurry with tears again and he was _tired_. Everything seemed like a blur in front of him, almost like he has dreaming, and he wished to god he was. He wished to god he would wake up from this nightmare and find Richie curled up next to him, warm and safe. Breath soft on his skin.

Eddie could barely focus enough to see where to sign on the pages they gave him. All he knew was that he signed his name on a line, wrote today’s date, and then wrote ‘husband’ in the little space that said ‘relationship to patient’. He did this on two separate pages, and then they decided to fuck off and let him be in peace.

At the same time, however, Eddie didn’t want to be alone and that was exactly what he was right now – alone. Even in the waiting area of the emergency room, there was absolutely no one else there. Wasn’t an emergency room a busy place, and weren’t there usually people there regardless of the hour? Why then was Eddie the only one there?

Eddie shuffled over to the row of chairs in the middle of the room and slumped into one of them. There were televisions all around the room broadcasting some news program, because that was what people waiting in the emergency room wanted to watch.

Eddie was glad that he’d had the presence of mind to grab his cellphone from the floor of their home before he’d left, because he pulled it out now. He immediately found his best friend’s name in his contacts (other than Richie, of course) and pressed send.

Bill answered after three rings and said, “Eds! What’s up?”

All of a sudden, however, Eddie found any words dying in his throat. He wasn’t sure what to say, and when he tried, only a sob wanted to escape him.

“Eds?” Bill asked, the concern evident in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Bill,” Eddie managed to choke out around another cry. He sucked in a heavy breath then, wondering if he should have grabbed his inhaler from under the bathroom sink after all, if only for the comfort it would provide.

“Eddie?” Bill said. “Hey. What’s going on? Breathe and tell me what happened.” When Eddie still didn’t speak, Bill asked, “Is everything all right?”

Eddie only managed to shake his head, even though he knew that Bill couldn’t see him. “N-no,” he finally got out in a small voice. “Someone…I think someone broke into our home.” That was even stupider, because that was obviously what had happened and it didn’t even begin to describe what was going on.

“ _What_?” Bill exclaimed. “Eddie, tell me what’s going on! Is everyone all right?” A moment later, Bill added, “Breathe in and hold it, then let it out slowly, okay? Come on.”

Eddie nodded, still another stupid action that Bill couldn’t see, but Bill’s words helped a little bit. Eddie sucked in a breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. He repeated this two more times before he was finally able to get out, “I don’t know. I-I wasn’t there. I came home and R-Richie was bleeding and unconscious.” Bill didn’t reply, probably because he was in shock just like Eddie had been. Then Eddie added, “He’s in the hospital.”

“F-fuck,” Bill bit out. “Where? What hospital?”

“Cedars-Sinai,” Eddie replied. “Can…can you come? Are you too busy?”

“No,” Bill told him firmly. “I’ll be there. G-give me an hour and a half. Did you tell the others?”

“N-no,” Eddie replied. “You were the first one I called.”

“Do you want me to do it? It’s not a problem.”

“Can you?” Eddie asked around another sob as he wiped the tears away from his face.

“Yes, absolutely,” Bill said. “Let me get some shit together and I’ll be on my way, okay? Call me back if there’s any change.”

“Thanks, Bill,” Eddie whimpered as he ended the call and let his phone fall to his lap.

Eddie knew Bill would come, even though Eddie sometimes felt like a nuisance for asking his friends for favors. He just needed someone there right now, and if it couldn’t be Richie, he wanted it to be Bill. His best man who had stood next to him the day he married Richie. Bill also just lived on the other side of Los Angeles, so he was the closest friend Eddie had.

The rest of the Losers were scattered from bumfuck Nebraska all the way down to Florida, but maybe they would come too. Maybe Eddie really wasn’t as alone as he thought he was, and really, he knew he wasn’t. He knew they all cared about him and Richie profusely, and nothing was more important to them than each other. Just thank god for the fact that Pennywise had drawn them all back to Derry again, because Eddie didn’t want to imagine how fucking empty his life would be if he was still living in New York and married to Myra with no friends to speak of.

Yeah, thank god for that fucking killer clown. Who would have thought?

Eddie stared down at his phone, almost having the urge to call or text Richie, even though there was no one there to answer. Eddie just felt so fucking lost and alone if he wasn’t talking to Richie on and off throughout the day. Eddie was at least grateful that he had called Richie that one last time, asking what he wanted for dinner. Telling him that he loved him. At least Richie knew that much.

Eddie stared down at the wedding band on his finger, at the way the row of diamonds in it sparkled as the lights in the emergency room caught them. He thought about the matching ring on Richie’s own hand, and Eddie just desperately wanted his husband. He wanted to sit next time him, hold his hand, and tell him everything would be okay.

Even though Eddie was sure it wouldn’t be.

“Mr. Kaspbrak?” a man’s voice startled Eddie from his thoughts and from his tears.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, looking up into the face of a middle-aged man in a suit. Eddie wiped the tears from his eyes again as he said, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m Detective Bannerman from the LAPD,” the man said, displaying a badge for Eddie to see. “I thought I could ask you some questions about what happened at your home tonight.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “although I’m really not sure what happened. I wasn’t there and…I came home to my husband lying on the floor.”

“Yes,” Detective Bannerman said, “we were able to listen to your 911 call. So you’re not sure who broke into your home or attacked your husband?”

Eddie shook his head, because this was fucking nonsense. He already told everyone who would listen that he wasn’t home, so he had no fucking clue what had gone on! They really needed to talk to Richie, because he was the one who had been there, even though he was obviously in no condition to answer questions right now.

“Mr. Kaspbrak,” the detective said next, “have you and your husband been having any problems in your marriage recently?”

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: This part wasn’t even supposed to be this long, but it got out of hand, as does a lot of my writing. I’ve had the pleasure of calling 911 well over a dozen times in my life (for my father before he passed and for customers at work) so I didn’t have to dig very deep for this. I also have anxiety, so this is pretty much pulled straight from my own experiences.


	3. Missing Piece

_What the actual fuck?_

At first, all Eddie could do was stare up at the detective in front of him, blinking in confusion, because Eddie wasn’t sure he had heard him right.

“ _What_?” Eddie finally choked out. He frowned deeply, his lips drawing into a thin line. “You-you think I did this to my husband?”

“Try and understand, Mr. Kaspbrak,” Detective Bannerman said, “we’re simply trying to figure out what went on. The spouse is often a person of interest, so it’s a standard question in our procedures.”

Eddie’s first instinct was to be angry. He wanted to start screaming and shouting about how he would never hurt Richie, but in the end, he didn’t think that would serve him well. They might just think he had an anger management issue if he did that, and then he would really be a person of interest. Plus, the sooner Eddie cooperated and they realized that someone else had done this, the sooner that asshole could be caught.

Eddie took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down before he answered. He shook his head miserably and said, “We were _so_ happy. We made love just this morning if that gives you can any indication as to the nature of our relationship,” Eddie added cheekily.

Eddie didn’t know if he expected any sort of response, but the detective only wrote something on his little pad of paper. Hell, Eddie wasn’t sure what had compelled him to say that in the first place, but it was probably the same reason he had talked about making love to Richie during his 911 call. Married couples had sex, and he and Richie tended to have lots of it (they had only been married for six months, after all). Not to mention, if the police were concerned about the nature of his relationship with Richie, then Eddie was going to lay those ideas to rest.

Sighing heavily, Eddie added, “I love my husband more than anything. I would never do anything to hurt him.”

“Would you mind taking me through the events of your day?” the detective asked. “It might help us get a timeline of when exactly this happened if you talked to your husband prior to the attack.”

“Richie and I ate breakfast this morning,” Eddie said, resigned to the fact that he was probably going to be repeating this story more than once when all was said and done. “I got ready, kissed him goodbye, and left for work.”

“Do you remember what time you left your home?”

“It was just after nine,” Eddie replied. “I had to be at work at ten, and it typically takes me about twenty minutes without traffic.”

“Where do you work?

“Pacific States Insurance Firm. It’s in Santa Monica. I’m a risk analyst.”

“How long were you there today?

“Eight hours,” Eddie replied. “I wasn’t planning on staying so late, but I got to working on some reports and-“ Eddie broke off around a weighty breath. “Maybe if I had come home earlier like I originally planned to, this wouldn’t have happened.”

It was the very first time that Eddie stopped to think about what would have happened if he left his fucking work behind for once and came home to Richie sooner. If he had left work just an hour earlier, maybe Eddie could have surprised the intruder. Perhaps the asshole would have been scared off if they had realized there were two people at home. Maybe they wouldn’t even have come in if there had been a car in the driveway. So many things could have happened to prevent this, and yet, here Eddie was, not even fucking knowing if Richie was okay or not.

But Eddie had ‘lost track of time in the exciting world of risk analysis’ just like Richie had said. It wasn’t even that the reports he had been working on had been all that enthralling, but Eddie wanted to get them done so that Richie could have his undivided attention this weekend. He wanted to do it for Richie, and look where that had gotten him – in the hospital emergency room, not even sure if Richie was still alive.

Richie could be dead, and Eddie hadn’t even been with him.

“Did you talk to Richie at all while you were at work?” Detective Bannerman asked, pulling Eddie from his thoughts.

Eddie nodded slowly. “I texted him while I was eating lunch, reminding him to eat, because he forgets sometimes,” Eddie said around a soft laugh. He then picked his phone up from where it was resting on his knee. He brought up his conversation that he’d had with Richie just that afternoon and held it out for the detective to see. “You can read what we said if you’re still concerned about what our relationship was like.”

Detective Bannerman took a moment to scroll through Eddie’s phone, and the only thing Eddie was mildly concerned about was the way he and Richie talked to each other sometimes. They often called each other assholes or dickheads and told each other to fuck off, but as the rest of the Losers could attest to, it was what they did instead of flirting like a normal couple. Hopefully, when they said they loved each other immediately after, however, the true nature of the conversations would come through.

“He’s a comedian,” Eddie finally supplied as a way to break the awkward silence that had settled into the room.

It was the detective’s turn to nod. “I’ve seen some of his videos on YouTube.”

“He’ll get to working on bits sometimes and he loses all track of time,” Eddie explained, smiling at the thought of Richie being his scatterbrained self. “I have to remind him to do normal adult things like eat and shower, because he says he gets in ‘the zone’ when he’s writing and doesn’t realize how much time has passed.”

Almost as soon as the words were out of Eddie’s mouth, the smile faded from his face. He couldn’t quite bear the thought of never having to remind Richie to fucking take care of himself ever again. Eddie sometimes wondered what Richie did before they got together, because by all accounts, Richie should have starved to death long ago.

“And when was the next time you talked to him?” the detective asked.

“After I punched out and was leaving the office,” Eddie replied. He gestured to his phone, which was still in the detective’s hand and said, “You can see what time I called him. It was just after six.”

Detective Bannerman took a moment to look through Eddie’s phone again before he asked, “And what was the nature of that conversation?”

“I asked him what he wanted for dinner,” Eddie said. “He said he wanted Mexican, so stopped at that place on Wilshire.” Eddie immediately leaned over slightly and reached into his back pocket, withdrawing his wallet. He found his receipt from the Mexican restaurant before handing that over to the detective as well. “Here’s my receipt if you need proof of that too.”

Eddie tried not to sound bitter, but he was pretty sure he failed miserably. He wanted to be as cooperative as possible, but fuck anyone that would suspect he’d ever even _think_ of doing something like this to Richie. Richie was his everything, and Eddie had no fucking clue where he’d go from here if Richie wasn’t okay. If he had to go back to the way things were before he’d known pure happiness with Richie. Eddie hadn’t even _fathomed_ he could be as complete and fulfilled as he felt with Richie, and he was terrified that it was about to be ripped out of his hands completely.

The detective made some more notes on his pad before he asked, “Was that the last time you spoke to him?”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t seem distressed or upset in anyway?” the detective asked. “Nothing that would indicate that something was happening at home?”

Eddie shook his head. “No. It was a normal conversation. We said we loved each other, joked around a little bit, because that’s what we do, and…he was actually really excited about something he was working on. Said he got some good work done today.”

“And what time did you arrive home?” the detective asked, writing something else down.

“Um,” Eddie said squinting in thought, “it must have been just before seven. And then I called 911 as soon as I saw what’d happened.”

The detective glanced at Eddie’s phone again and said, “You called 911 at seven o’clock exactly.” He nodded, making a few more notes. “Did you notice that anything from your home was missing?”

Eddie blinked at him, because apparently they were back to the asinine questions. Eddie had been completely focused on Richie and he hadn’t had time to look for missing items! Eddie didn’t even give a fuck if they had completely gutted his home, because they were just possessions and they could be replaced. Richie couldn’t.

“I was a little distracted to worry about what they might have stolen,” Eddie told him. He shrugged and added, “They broke the deadbolt on the front door. That’s all I noticed.”

Handing Eddie’s phone back to him, Detective Bannerman jotted down something else on his notepad before he said, “So the attack had to have happened sometime between six and seven, which is actually extremely helpful. It gives us a very narrow window that any possible suspects will need to account for. Obviously, we don’t have a lot to go on right now without your husband’s account of what happened, but we dusted for fingerprints at the scene, and we can start by running those through the system. When you do go home, it would be a huge help if you can let us know if anything was stolen. Especially if it was a unique or expensive item, we can keep an eye out for those things in particular. A lot of the time, stolen items end up at pawn shops and the like, so checking out those would be our next course of action if you find that anything of note was taken.”

Eddie pressed a hand to his forehead, desperately trying to take in everything the detective was saying. It felt like he had been on autopilot, reciting his day to the detective, but Eddie felt like it was quickly becoming too much. As much as he wanted to help them catch the asshole that had done this to his husband, Eddie really just wanted to know how Richie was. His eyes kept going to the double doors behind the detective that lead to the emergency ward, waiting for someone to come talk to him. But no one did.

The detective had taken a small card from his pocket and handed it to Eddie next. “This is my card,” he said. “Please call me as soon as you’re able to take stock of your home or if you think of anything else that might be able to help us.”

Eddie took the card with a shaking hand and stared down at it miserably. The words on it didn’t even make sense to him, nothing more than a blur of information he didn’t feel capable of processing right now. The last thing he was even concerned with was checking his house for stolen items. First and foremost, he needed to know that Richie was okay and he wasn’t leaving the fucking hospital until he knew that for sure. Everything else could wait.

“Like you said,” Detective Bannerman continued on, “they broke the deadbolt on your front door, but we were still able to secure the lock on the doorknob when we left. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. I don’t even really care if you left the door wide open and someone else came in and ransacked my house. I just care about Richie right now. He’s the most important thing in the world to me. Everything else is just stuff.”

For the very first time since this interrogation began, the detective’s brown eyes softened and he offered Eddie a sad smile. Maybe the man actually finally believed that Eddie loved his husband and would never do anything to hurt him. Believed that Eddie was nearly at his wits’ end still fucking waiting for word on Richie’s condition.

“I made note of your number too,” the detective said. “I’ll call you if you we come across anything or have any other questions. The hospital has my number too, and hopefully, we’ll be able to get a description of the suspect from your husband if he’s okay.”

“That’s all I want,” Eddie mumbled. “Please try and get whoever did this to my husband and put them where they belong, so they can’t hurt anyone else.”

“That’s what we’re going to try to do.” The detective offered him an encouraging smile before he departed the waiting area, leaving Eddie to his thoughts once again.

As much as Eddie hated having to answer the detective’s questions, Eddie wasn’t entirely thrilled with being alone either. It meant that he didn’t have any distractions, so his mind started running in overdrive, going through all the possible scenarios of what could possibly happen to his husband.

Eddie almost felt like an idiot, sitting in the emergency waiting area all by himself with no one around him. He didn’t know why, but he felt like the receptionists, and the nurses, and doctors who passed through were staring at him like he had no right to be there. He just felt awkward and out in the open, and it seemed like forever before the front doors to the hospital opened, and it wasn’t more paramedics with a new patient like Eddie had been expecting.

“ _Bill_ ,” Eddie gasped out as he rose from his chair. He quickly crossed the waiting area and threw himself into Bill’s arms, because he just needed _someone_. He needed someone who was his ally, and who wasn’t going to accuse him of hurting his husband, or ask him more asinine questions like everyone else. Eddie buried his head in Bill’s shoulder and let out a relieved sob, but it quickly turned into cry that wracked through his entire body.

He was so fucking _tired_. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet, but it felt much later than that. The day seemed to be going on and on without any end in sight, and it felt like he had been sitting in the waiting room forever; Eddie just wanted to know what was going on with Richie already!

“I got here as soon as I could,” Bill said as he hugged Eddie tightly.

He ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s back, which did sooth Eddie’s cries just the tiniest bit, because it helped to know that he wasn’t alone.

“Has there been any word?” Bill asked.

Shaking his head, Eddie pulled away and wiped at his eyes. “I’ve been waiting and waiting, but… _nothing_. I feel like fucking going over there and demanding they tell me what’s going on with him already,” he muttered, gesturing at the desks where the receptionists were working.

“They’re probably working on him,” Bill said calmly, “and they’ll let you know as soon as there is anything to share. In this case, no news is good news, because it means he’s still alive.” He paused for a moment before gently leading Eddie back over to the chair where he had been sitting. “Let’s sit down.”

Eddie went, slumping back down in his chair once again as Bill took the seat next to him.

“What the fuck h-happened?” Bill finally asked, and Eddie had known it was coming.

“I don’t _know_ ,” Eddie told him just like he had told everyone else thus far. “I came home and Richie was lying on the floor bleeding. From his head. It-it looked like someone broke in to rob the place, I guess, and Richie must have surprised them. And they hit him over the head. I fucking knew we should have gotten a goddamned security system or _something_.”

“Jesus,” Bill muttered. He leaned over to wrap an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “He’s going to be all right. He’s strong. Not to mention, we all lived through a hell of a lot worse than this and lived to tell the tale. I mean, nothing can compare to the fucking killer clown from outer space.”

Eddie tried to force out a laugh at that, but it eventually transformed into a hiccup as another sob echoed through his chest. Tears and snot were streaming down his face now, which he wiped at with the sleeve of his suit jacket. That was when he realized the suit was a lost cause now, because aside from the tears he’d been wiping on it, there were also blood stains on the knees of his pants as well as on the cuffs of the jacket. He even had dried blood on one of his hands from when he’d been pressing gauze against Richie’s head.

 _Richie’s blood_. All over him.

That thought disgusted Eddie so much that he immediately pulled out of Bill’s grasp to rip his jacket off and throw it down on the chair next to him. He’d have to see if the hospital staff could dispose of it, because it was _gross_. No wonder the detective had asked if Eddie was having any trouble in his marriage, because it _did_ kind of look like he had tried to commit murder.

Eddie rubbed at his blood-stained hand with the other, then ran it over the leg of his pants again and again. It was still a deep maroon color, the blood staining his skin, so he’d have to find a fucking bathroom to at least wash his hands soon. Why didn’t he at least have the presence of mind of grab a pack of wet wipes before he left the house?

“Did you get a chance to talk to the others?” Eddie asked, because he was suddenly aware of just how closely Bill was watching him, and he felt the need to fill the silence that had settled between them with something.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, but I didn’t have much to tell them – only what you told me and that wasn’t a lot to go on. They want us to let them know as soon as we hear anything, and they’ll decide tomorrow if they’re going to fly out. Most likely they will, though, because they’re all just as concerned as we are.”

“God, I just wish they would tell us _something_ ,” Eddie muttered, tugging at his tie and loosening it. He wished he could change out of his suit, but he would have to settle for pulling off as many pieces of it as possible. He tugged off his tie, letting it fall to his lap, and then pulled at some of the top buttons of his shirt, pulling those open as well.

“I told you, it means he’s still alive and they’re working,” Bill told him, laying a hand over Eddie’s back and rubbing at it gently. “They’ll let us know what’s going on as soon as they can.”

Now that Eddie didn’t have anything to do – no questions to answer and no calls to make – he could feel the sobs bubbling up inside him again. He took a deep breath in effort to curb them, but then tears welled up in his eyes and were dripping down his cheeks before he could stop them. Eddie gasped in a breath of air, which only turned into a bunch of short sobs.

Bill wrapped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders again, pulling him closer. Richie was normally the only one Eddie would let hug him like this, but Eddie leaned heavily into Bill, because he didn’t know what else to do. Eddie felt completely lost not knowing what was going on with Richie, and Eddie just wanted to feel like he wasn’t alone. And he wasn’t. Bill was here.

All it had taken was one phone call, and Bill had come to be by his side, no questions asked. Eddie also knew that the other Losers would come running too if he asked, and that thought – along with not knowing what in the hell was going on with Richie – seemed to hit him all at once.

Eddie rested his head against Bill’s shoulder, turning and pressing his face into Bill’s neck as the cries exploded through him. He could feel Bill’s other arm reaching up to pull him closer, and Eddie went, curling his head down into Bill’s chest. Bill brought a hand up to Eddie’s head, pressing it gently against his chest and rubbing the side of Eddie’s head.

Eddie let Bill hold him and he cried. He had no idea how long he cried for, but it went on until he felt like he had no tears left in him. He felt empty and spent, and Bill had held him through it, apparently not the least bit concerned about all the snot and tears Eddie had gotten all over his shirt.

When the tears finally subsided, Eddie ran his shirt sleeve over his face, but Bill still didn’t let him go. Still wouldn’t let him think he was alone in this, so Eddie stayed leaning up against him. Silence fell between them, and Eddie was only vaguely aware of the televisions in the background, talking about a pileup on one of the highways or something. Eddie all of a sudden decided that he detested news programs and he didn’t think he would watch them ever again, because they would only make him think about sitting in the emergency room, awaiting word on Richie’s condition.

“Where in the _fuck_ did you get that ugly ass tie, man?” Bill asked after a while. “I can’t believe you were actually _wearing_ that. That’s really something Richie would wear instead of you.”

Eddie didn’t know if his question was meant to break the silence or just to distract him, but Eddie was grateful for it nonetheless. He had to take a moment to look down at the tie in his hands, because with all of the day’s events, he had completely forgotten which one he had put on that morning.

 _Oh_.

As it turned out, it _was_ a rather ugly novelty tie that Richie had gotten him, but Eddie found himself wearing it more and more as time passed. It was black with strands of spaghetti and meatballs on it that Richie had found only god knew where.

 _“Oh my fucking_ god _,” Eddie had complained last Christmas morning, grimacing at the tie Richie had gifted him. “Where the_ hell _did you get this?” He threw it at Richie’s face and added, “You need to burn it, because it’s atrocious and I will never wear it.”_

_“It’s a spaghetti tie for my Spaghetti,” Richie told him, leaning over to wrap it loosely around the back of Eddie’s neck. He used it to pull Eddie closer and kissed him. “Do you have any idea what I did to find it? And you’re not even going to wear it?” Richie stuck his bottom lip out in a pout._

_“It is hideous and no, I will not,” Eddie muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a gag gift! People don’t really_ use _those, dickhead, nor do they usually keep them in the long run!”_

_“But you tell me I’m hideous and you decided to keep me,” Richie retorted, playfully tilting his head in that way that Eddie found completely endearing and made him met into Richie’s touch. Like now._

_“I’ve done no such thing!” Eddie snapped even as he pressed a kiss against Richie’s cheek. “Your_ shirts _are hideous. There’s a difference.” Eddie grabbed at the collar of Richie’s ugly holiday shirt, decked out in Christmas lights and reindeer. “Seriously, where the_ fuck _do you find this shit?”_

_Ignoring Eddie’s question, Richie grinned and asked, “So you do find_ me _attractive. Is that what you’re saying?” He tugged on the tie around Eddie’s neck again, pulling him closer yet._

_“Shut up and kiss me,” Eddie muttered, and a few moments later, they had been nothing more than a tangled mess of limbs and kisses on the couch._

The tie had hung untouched in his closet for nearly a month afterwards, but at some point, Eddie had pulled it out and decided to wear it on a whim. Richie had teased him mercilessly over it for the whole fucking day, but in the end, Eddie found himself fondly running his hand over it while he had been at work. It just reminded him so strongly of Richie, of making out with Richie on the couch on Christmas morning, and those thoughts made him deliriously happy. Eddie now tended to put the tie on whenever he was feeling especially close and tender with Richie, because it only helped to heighten those feelings. Given the events of this morning, Eddie wasn’t really surprised that he had picked it out of his closet afterwards.

Bill’s question made Eddie laugh, and he found more tears spilling down his cheeks. But this time, it was because Eddie was thinking of Richie, of that ridiculously cute way he tilted his head and looked at Eddie. Of how fucking _in love_ Eddie was with him and how ridiculously happy and in awe he still was that Richie loved him back.

“It was a Christmas gift from Richie,” Eddie replied around another laugh, wiping away the tears that had accumulated on his chin. He sniffled before he added, “At least I didn’t get any blood on it. I’m rather fond of it.”

“Leave it to that man to find the ugliest clothes in existence,” Bill said, shaking his head.

Despite the situation, Eddie found himself smiling, running his fingers over the tie in his hands in an effort to try and calm himself. To think about better days spent with Richie making out on the couch and just being in love with his stupid ass.

Sighing, Eddie leaned into Bill again. “Thanks for coming,” Eddie whispered, his eyelids feeling heavy out of nowhere. Finally feeling the effects of the events of the day, he supposed.

Tightening his hold around Eddie’s shoulders again, Bill said, “Think nothing of it. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Eddie closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of the smooth, silky tie between his fingers. On Bill’s soft and steady breathing underneath him before he drifted off.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Eds,” Bill’s voice awoke him sometime later.

Eddie started awake, thoroughly shocked at the idea that he had fallen asleep in the waiting room of all places. He pushed himself away from Bill, rubbing his arm over his eyes and a moment later, he realized that there was a doctor standing before them.

Clearing his throat, Eddie sat up straighter in his chair as he looked up at the doctor, and all of a sudden, Eddie wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going on. At least before, he could keep telling himself that everything was okay, that Richie was going to be fine. But now, there was no going back once he knew the full truth.

“Mr. Kaspbrak?” the rather young dark-haired woman asked.

“Yes,” Eddie replied.

“I’m Doctor Reddy,” the woman said. “I’ve been treating your husband.” She hesitated for a moment before glancing at Bill. When she looked back at Eddie, she asked, “Is it okay if he stays?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Eddie told her. “This is Bill, one of our best friends.” Eddie bit at his lower lip before he asked, “How is my husband?”

“First, I want to assure you that he is stable,” she told him.

Eddie expelled a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. He hung his head, staring down at the tie in his hands and gripping it tightly. He thought he’d done all the crying he could do right now, but tears of relief were welling up in his eyes at the thought that Richie was okay.

“That being said,” the doctor continued, “he has suffered a skull fracture accompanied by some brain swelling and intracranial bleeding. We’re treating that right now. We’ve inserted a shunt to drain any excess fluids from his brain as well as a catheter so that we can monitor the pressure in his brain.”

“What, um, what does that mean?” Eddie asked, shaking his head in confusion. He felt like he did when he had been talking to the detective, having way too much information laid on him and not entirely sure what to do with it.

“There’s no telling if he’s suffered any brain damage from his injuries,” the doctor told him.

“Brain damage?” Eddie asked, entirely caught off guard. He scrunched up his face in thought, because of all the scenarios he had been running through his head, this was not one of them. He had mostly been wondering if Richie was going to live or die, and he certainly hadn’t thought about any complications like this even if Richie did make it.

“Yes,” Doctor Reddy said. “He may suffer any range of cognitive, behavioral, or physical impairments as a result. On the other hand, he may be perfectly fine, but there’s no way to know until he wakes up and we’re able to evaluate him then.”

“When-when will that be?” Eddie asked.

“We have him sedated right now so that he can begin healing,” she replied. “Once it looks like the swelling in his brain has gone down and we’re sure the bleeding has stopped, we can begin tapering him off those drugs. Then like I said, we can evaluate any possible brain damage he might have sustained and go from there.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie muttered, running a hand through his hair and desperately looking at Bill.

“So br-brain damage…?” Bill began, and Eddie was grateful for his initiative, because he was pretty sure he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence right now. “You mean he could have speech or physical impairments as a result?”

The doctor nodded. “Those are both a possibility, yes, and he may require some form of rehabilitation afterwards. Also, he may have issues with his memory, or just things like processing information, or irritability, and behavioral changes. There’s a whole range of symptoms that we just can’t predict right now.”

“His memory,” Eddie asked. “You mean he can forget things? Like amnesia?”

The doctor pressed her lips into a thin line before she nodded. “Unfortunately, yes, but again, we can’t possibly predict how extensive that may be until he wakes up. Or like I said, he may have no issues whatsoever. There’s simply no way to know right now.”

Eddie hunched over, pressing the back of his hand against his eyes. He had spent this entire time sitting there simply wishing that Richie would live, but now that that seemed likely, Eddie had a whole new slew of issues to worry about. Until Richie woke up, they had no way of knowing what those might entail, but one thought scared Eddie more than any other.

Would Richie even _be_ his Richie anymore? Would Eddie suddenly find himself married to a stranger?

But Eddie was getting ahead of himself and he knew it. If he sat here and started thinking about all of the things that possibly could go wrong with Richie’s recovery, then Eddie was going throw himself right back into a panic attack. As it was, he had more important things to worry about.

“Can I see him?” Eddie asked, all too aware of the fact that he sounded desperate. But this was his husband, and up until a few minutes ago, he wasn’t even sure if he was dying or not. The last time Eddie had seen him, Richie had been bleeding out in their hallway, and Eddie needed to know that he was at least out of immediate danger.

“We’d like him to rest as much as possible,” Doctor Reddy said.

“ _Please_ ,” Eddie nearly sobbed, because if they weren’t even going to let him see his husband who had almost _died_ , then he wasn’t sure what he might do. “I-I need to see that he’s okay.”

The doctor considered this for a moment before she nodded. “As long as you keep your visit quiet and short.”

Eddie started to get up from his chair, but then he paused and looked at Bill.

“Go on,” Bill said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’m going to call the others and let them know what’s going on before it gets too late.”

Eddie smiled gratefully at Bill before the doctor took him back through the double doors and through a twisting maze of hallways before she finally stopped at a room towards the end of the hall. And then Eddie wasn’t so sure he wanted to go inside.

Seeming to sense his hesitation, the doctor smiled and said, “We have him on oxygen and an IV. His head is obviously bandaged and there’ll be tubes running underneath that, but he’s doing as well as he can be right now. I know it’s scary, but it’s all to help him right now.”

Eddie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes against the sudden pounding of his heart in his ears. “I just…my mother died of cancer, so it’s not the first time I’ve seen these things, but…” he trailed off, not even sure what he was trying to say.

“Not on your husband?”

Eddie smiled slightly at the doctor being able to so easily put his thoughts into words. “Yeah,” he whispered. He looked down at the tie he still had clasped in his hands, compulsively running his hands over the fabric. “Richie’s so…he’s exuberant and boisterous, so I…never thought I _would_ have to see him like this.”

This man had lived through two battles with a fucking space clown without even a scratch on him, so Eddie kind of always thought of him as invincible, even though he knew he wasn’t. No one was, but Richie had been his rock for as long as he’d known him, and now Eddie supposed it was his turn to step up and fill that role.

And Eddie could do it. He could.

Stepping into the room, it wasn’t quite the medical equipment on Richie that threw him for a loop, but the condition of Richie himself. Richie’s eyes were surrounded by deep purplish circles, like he’d either been punched or he’d been up for days with no sleep. He was also horribly pale, almost matching the color of the sheets around him.

“The circles around his eyes are common with head trauma,” the doctor explained, like she knew exactly what it was that had taken Eddie aback. “He’s also lost some blood, so paleness is to be expected.” She stepped farther into the room than Eddie did, going over to the many monitors that were surrounding Richie’s bed.

Eddie’s eyes followed the many tubes and lines, taking in the IV in his arm, the nasal cannula, the monitor clipped to his index finger, and the wires that emerged from under the sleeve of his hospital gown, most likely monitoring his heart further. Then Eddie slowly looked up Richie’s body, to the two tubes tucked into the bright white bandages wrapped around his head. Eddie could just see a few strands of Richie’s dark curls escaping from the bandages. They clung to his forehead with sweat, making him look even paler still. Richie’s lips also looked severely dry and chapped, and Eddie had the urge to try and kiss them to make them better.

But then Eddie noticed two things that were missing from his husband. He turned to the doctor and demanded, “Where are his wedding ring and glasses? We never take our rings off, and he can’t see two feet in front of him without his glasses.”

Eddie didn’t know why those things were so important to him right now, but they were. It wasn’t like Richie could see anything at the moment, but he needed to have his glasses ready once he woke up. And Eddie simply hated that anyone had taken his wedding ring off. They had both had them on since their wedding in October, and the fact that Richie wasn’t wearing his anymore almost felt like a spell was now broken or something.

“We have them here, Mr. Kaspbrak,” the doctor said, lifting up a clear plastic drawstring bag from one of the counters against the wall. “We have everything he was wearing that we didn’t have to cut off of him.”

Shoving his tie in his pocket, Eddie immediately went to the bag, pulling it open and rummaging around in it until he found the objects in question. The doctors had also seen fit to save his fucking _socks_ and _underwear_ for reasons that were beyond Eddie, because that was what Eddie wanted – his husband’s fucking stinky socks and _used_ underwear. But then he found one of the things he had been looking for as his hand closed around Richie’s glasses, which he promptly pulled out of the bag. Eddie was relieved to see that they were still in one piece, having survived the attack without a scratch or crack.

Eddie put those in the pocket of his shirt before he reached back into the bag, his hand going to the bottom in search of that little platinum ring that symbolized his union with Richie. He finally felt it slide onto one of his fingers and he pulled it out, checking to make sure that it was okay too, because he would seriously hurt someone if something irreparable had happened to Richie’s ring.

The ring was still okay, the diamonds and platinum reflecting back the emergency room lights from where it sat on Eddie’s ring finger, just above his own ring. Richie’s fingers were bigger than Eddie’s, however, so Eddie moved it to his index finger where it fit comfortably around his skin. He wrapped his thumb around it protectively, vowing to keep it safe until Richie was out of the hospital and able to wear it again.

Without anything else to distract him, Eddie finally turned back to the bed to face the one thing he supposed he had been avoiding. To face the state that his husband was in.

“All of his vitals look very good,” the doctor said, still checking the monitors beeping steadily next to the bed. She made some notes on a clipboard and added, “As soon as a room is ready, we’ll likely be moving him to the stepdown unit upstairs, which means he’s out of immediate danger, so he is doing okay.”

Eddie smiled gratefully, but still didn’t move from where he stood rooted by the counter.

“I’ll let you visit for a moment,” Doctor Reddy said. “There’s a call button if you need immediate help,” she said, gesturing to a remote control hanging over one of the bars on the bed on a thick wire. “A nurse will be in in a little while to check his vitals again, but please call if you need anything.”

When Eddie was left alone, he stood watching Richie like he might be some wild animal that could attack him. Eddie didn’t know why he was having such a hard time approaching or even looking at his husband in this state, but he didn’t like it.

“Fuck,” Eddie muttered, almost forcing himself to take a few steps closer to the bed. Reminding himself that it might help Richie if he knew Eddie was there, that was the thought that finally pushed Eddie to sit on the very edge of Richie’s bed. He still didn’t quite touch his husband, but he said, “You’re a fucking mess, man.” He had been trying desperately to joke, but his voice cracked on the very last word.

Unable to look at Richie’s pale and drawn face any longer, his eyes went down to Richie’s hand sitting next to him on the bed. To the finger where his wedding ring should be, but wasn’t any longer. Sighing, Eddie slowly reached out, sliding his fingers just underneath Richie’s. Eddie brought Richie’s hand up to his chest, tightening his grip around it. Richie’s hand felt warm and comforting around his, and that helped a little bit, even if Richie couldn’t tell him that everything was going to be okay.

“I have your wedding ring right here,” Eddie said, making sure that Richie’s fingers were curved over his and were touching both rings on Eddie’s fingers. “Can you feel it? I’m going to wear it until I can put it back on you, because no one else is allowed to.”

Eddie brought Richie’s hand up closer, pressing a kiss to the back of it before letting his eyes travel back up Richie’s body. One of the things Eddie had always loved about Richie were his arms, how they always looked and felt so strong whenever he held Eddie. Letting one of his hands trail down Richie’s wrist and to his arm, Eddie gripped it tightly, and he supposed that that made him feel the tiniest bit better too. It was still _there_ , still strong and firm underneath his fingers.

Eddie’s eyes settled on Richie’s hospital gown next, and this did manage to earn a small smirk from Eddie. He knew that Richie would be horrified at having to wear such an ugly thing, but Eddie immediately found himself latching onto it.

“I’m not sure,” Eddie said, “but this may be an improvement over your everyday fashion.” He reached up, plucking at the hem on the sleeve. “We’ll have to see if we can get a couple.” He paused, instinctively waiting for Richie’s retort, but of course, no answer came.

“I’m sorry, Rich,” Eddie gasped out as another sob that threatened to escape him. His eyes finally went up to Richie’s face, to his sunken eyes that Eddie desperately wished would open; Eddie just wanted to see his husband’s beautiful blue eyes, and not those dark circles surrounding him. Sucking in another breath, Eddie said, “I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier like I intended to. If I had been there – I don’t know. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe you’d still be okay, and we’d be cuddling on the couch now like we wanted instead of…this. Instead of being in a fucking hospital.”

Still keeping Richie’s hand clasped tightly near his heart, Eddie reached out his other hand to run his fingers over Richie’s cheek. He pressed his fingertips to the skin, letting Richie’s stubble scrape over the pads of his fingers, just as he had that morning when they had been making love. Then he gently tugged at the strands of Richie’s hair emerging from underneath the bandages, pulling them away from his sweat-soaked skin, also like he had done that morning. When everything had been good, and right, and perfect.

“You’re going to be okay,” Eddie told him, trying his best to sound sure of himself, even though he was anything but. “And even if you’re not…we’ll get through this, okay? No matter what, I’m going to be here to help you through it. You’re not going to be alone. And Bill’s right out in the waiting room. He came as soon as I called him, and I imagine the others are probably going to come to see you, because we have some pretty awesome friends. We’re all going to help you through this.”

Still, Eddie waited for some sort of response from Richie, but only the steady beeping of his monitors met his ears.

“I just wish you’d wake up, because I really miss you,” Eddie said, then he forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I miss you and your big fucking mouth. Who would have thought? I must be out of my goddamned mind.”

Sighing heavily, Eddie looked down at Richie’s hand clasped in his. At the way their fingers slotted together like two puzzle pieces fitting together. Eddie had no idea who he even was without Richie, didn’t even feel whole anymore without his husband, and he just desperately wished for his other half to come back to him in one piece.

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I’ve never been to LA and I know absolutely nothing about it other than what I’ve Googled and seen on TV, so don’t look too closely at the details here. Also, I’m not a doctor. I’ve done my best with research and my own personal experiences, but please excuse any errors here.
> 
> Stay tuned for chapter four where Richie wakes up and we learn the extent of his injuries!


	4. Torn

Eddie was torn. On the one hand, he desperately wanted to go home, shower, and change out of his godawful blood-stained suit. Richie’s blood. At the same time, however, Eddie really didn’t want to leave Richie at the hospital. A part of him was scared to death that the moment he left, something horrible would happen to Richie; his heart might stop, or he’d quit breathing, and he would die while Eddie went home to do something as stupid as _change clothes_.

It was almost like Eddie felt his presence there was the only thing keeping Richie alive, which wasn’t true, of course. The doctors reassured Eddie that Richie was perfectly stable, and there honestly wasn’t anything left to do except wait. Going home for an hour or two wouldn’t change that.

Only once the doctors promised to let Eddie know if there were any changes to Richie’s condition did Eddie consent to letting Bill take him home. At first, Eddie wanted Bill to stay at the hospital, if only so Richie would have at least one friend present. So he wouldn’t be alone if the unthinkable happened. Eddie insisted that he was okay with calling an Uber, but Bill seemed vehemently against Eddie returning home alone.

“You had an in-intruder in your home!” Bill exclaimed, while Eddie paced around the waiting room. “I’m sure they won’t return, but I’d rather come with you and make sure everything’s safe there.”

Eddie paused in his steps, turning around to face Bill fully. “If you’re trying to calm my nerves, it isn’t helping,” Eddie muttered.

“Sorry,” Bill told him. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. And…from what you said, there’s a mess to clean up. I don’t want you to have to do that alone.”

Eddie stared down at his hands where he was gripping his stupid spaghetti tie again. He suddenly didn’t want to let it go and thought he would probably still be holding it when they returned to the hospital, almost like it was a lifeline. Like if he let it go, something horrible would happen to Richie. Which was stupid. All of these thoughts were stupid, thinking if he did or did not do one meaningless little thing, then Richie would die, that he would lose his husband forever, but Eddie couldn’t help it.

“Maybe you’re right,” Eddie finally admitted, not taking his eyes off of his tie. The more he thought about it, he realized that he really didn’t want to go home alone to the massive pool of Richie’s blood on the floor of their home. Didn’t want to face that alone. He desperately needed Bill by his side through this, and that was why he had called him in the first place.

By the time Bill pulled up in Eddie and Richie’s driveway, it was nearly one o’clock in the morning, and Eddie knew it was going to be a very long time before he slept again. In fact, it would be a very long time before he even _felt_ like sleeping.

When Eddie ascended the porch steps towards his front door, he was very grateful for Bill’s presence. A burning sensation rose in Eddie’s throat as he was reminded of the last time he came home, only to find his entire world broken and shattered, perhaps beyond repair. When he came home to find Richie in a pool of his own blood.

And it was there, Richie’s blood, somehow even more horrifying and sickening than when he had left it the first time. Maybe it was because Eddie now knew the extent of Richie’s physical injuries, and all that was left was a giant question mark above his head, wondering if Richie would ever come back to him the way he used to be.

The blood had been left to begin congealing and drying on their hardwood floor, and Eddie wondered if the stain would even come out now. As it turned out, it was probably a good idea that Eddie had returned home now, because if left for any longer, that shit was surely never coming out.

Eddie shut his eyes against the sight in front of him, containing the urge to throw up this contents of his stomach, which wouldn’t be much of anything; the last time he had eaten had been his late lunch that day which had consisted of a salad with grilled chicken.

“Don’t look at it,” Bill told him, making sure the front door was locked behind them. He placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, attempting to push him down the hallway past the bloodstain. “You go get showered and changed. I’ll clean this up.”

Eddie, however, wouldn’t budge. He turned around, staring down at his briefcase and the takeout bag which he’d dropped near the door, along with the piece of splintered wood from the broken deadbolt. “I’ll need to call a locksmith too,” Eddie muttered, stooping down to pick up the wood and bag of Mexican food. “And I need to make sure they didn’t take Richie’s keys or wallet. If they did, I’ll need to cancel his credit and debit cards-“

“Eddie,” Bill interrupted, reaching for Eddie’s hands. He took the takeout bag, still trying to steer Eddie down the hall. “Please go get cleaned up, and I’ll take care of this.”

A sob escaped from Eddie, and he pressed the back of his hand over his mouth in an effort to quell them. He didn’t even know what he had done to deserve such fucking awesome friends, but Eddie didn’t even need to _ask_ ; here was Bill, offering to get this devastating scene in front of them cleaned up, and telling Eddie not to worry about it. Not to worry about this mess of blood in his _own home_.

“Bill…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bill immediately cut him off. “Losers stick together.”

Taking a shaking breath, Eddie could only smile at Bill in appreciation. His throat was currently too tightly to speak, but Bill seemed to understand.

Bill squeezed Eddie’s shoulder before asking, “Do you want this takeout?”

Eddie shook his head wildly, feeling his stomach clench again. “It’s been sitting out too long. And I was buying it when Richie was probably-“ Eddie stopped short, not wanting to finish his thoughts. Even though they still hung there in his brain like a dark and heavy cloud. “I…bought it for Richie. He wanted Mexican,” Eddie said instead, and he didn’t know why.

“He’ll be okay,” Bill said, wrapping his arm around Eddie’s shoulders instead. “And the quicker you go get cleaned up, the sooner we’ll be back at the hospital.”

Still, words escaped Eddie, so he ended up following Bill’s wishes instead, because he didn’t know what else to do. Closing his eyes against the pool of Richie’s blood in the hallway, Eddie skirted around it as he headed through the kitchen towards their bedroom. However, once he got there, he wasn’t so sure that he wanted to be there either.

Actually, he just wanted to be back at the hospital with Richie, holding his hand and making sure he was okay.

“Fuck,” Eddie muttered under his breath. “Bill?” he shouted back down the hall.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come in here please?”

A few seconds later, Bill’s footsteps echoed down the hallway as he approached the bedroom. He began to say something, perhaps to ask what Eddie needed, but then his own voice died in his throat when he took in the scene in front of him.

The entire room had been ransacked. The dresser drawers had been pulled out and turned over, Eddie’s and Richie’s clothes strewn across the floor. The same had been done to the closet, leaving only a few garments still left on their hangers. Even the sheets on the bed had been pulled away, and the mattress was off-center, one corner of it hanging over the box spring towards the floor.

“The _fuck_?” Bill asked.

“I don’t know!” Eddie cried. He gripped his hair in his hands, turning around in the center of the room, looking around at piles of clothing at his feet. “I didn’t – why the fuck didn’t I _notice_ this when I _found_ him? I came in here to get some gauze for his head! Why didn’t I _see_ this?”

“You were a bit preoccupied?” Bill offered. “F-finding him like that must have been a shock to say the least.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eddie said again, still staring down at the scene in front of him. At the fucking disaster that had been made out of their bedroom. Out of their _sanctuary_. It was by far their favorite room in the house, where they had spent so many days and nights over the last year expressing their love for each other. Where they had just made love only eighteen hours before, and now…

It was _wrong. Dirty. Sullied_.

“How am I supposed to figure out if anything was taken?” Eddie asked frantically. “This is such a _mess_. It’ll take ages to clean up, much less sort through it and even _remember_ what all _should_ be here.”

“Did you have anything valuable in here?” Bill asked, beginning to pick up a few of the shirts from the floor and place them on the bed.

“We didn’t have _anything_ ,” Eddie told him. “You know that other than our cars, Richie and I don’t like anything _flashy_.”

“I know,” Bill sighed, continuing to try and make a dent in picking up the room.

“Jesus, they were _in here_ , Bill!” Eddie’s hands were still in his hair, and he had to make a conscious effort to not want to pull it out by the roots. “They were in our _house_! They were in our _bedroom_! I mean, the hallway is one fucking thing, but how dare they come into our _bedroom_?”

Eddie didn’t know why he took it as a personal attack that a stranger would dare to come into his bedroom of all things, but this was supposed to be a _private_ room. One reserved for himself and his husband, and maybe a few friends here and there whenever they dropped by. _Strangers_ certainly weren’t supposed to be in here. Not in his house and not in his _bedroom_ of all things.

“I need to throw all of this in the wash,” Eddie mumbled, mostly thinking out loud. “They were touching our _clothes_! They touched our _bed_!”

“And we’ll do that,” Bill said. He came up behind Eddie, placing his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and squeezing them firmly. “I’m going to get the hallway cleaned up, and then we can get started on a load of laundry before we head back to the hospital. Okay?”

“Oh, Jesus, Bill,” Eddie sobbed out, leaning heavily into Bill’s touch. It was then that a horrible thought occurred to Eddie, and he asked, “Do you think they were _looking_ for something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!” Eddie tried very hard not to start sobbing, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could contain it. He could feel the cries starting to bubble up inside him, and it felt like they would begin spilling out at any moment. “I mean, Richie being famous and…I don’t know! We’re not even going to know who this asshole was until Richie wakes up, and even then, he might not remember! They might never catch this asshole! They’ll be out there and… _I don’t know_!”

That was all Eddie had been saying since this ordeal had begun – ‘I don’t know’ – and he didn’t. He didn’t know if he’d ever fully comprehend how or why anyone would do this to his husband. Richie, who had never hurt _anyone_. Except maybe for Henry Bowers and that fucking space clown.

Sighing heavily, Bill pulled Eddie into a hug. He placed one hand on the back of Eddie’s head and kept running the other over Eddie’s back in an attempt to calm him. Eddie choked out another sob, but he wouldn’t allow himself to break down. He wouldn’t. At least, not just yet. He pulled away from Bill, because he needed to find a safe place to have his breakdown in peace.

Eddie didn’t even want to put on any of the clothes that the asshole had touched, at least not without washing it first. In the end, Eddie found a t-shirt and blue jeans still sitting in one of the dresser drawers, looking like they were mostly untouched. He picked those up and made his way to the bathroom while Bill went back out to the hallway to begin cleaning up the bloodstain.

Eddie turned the water on hot, like he usually liked it, while he pulled off his dress shirt and dress pants. Only his slacks had blood on them, but he dropped them both on the floor, because he would never be wearing them again. They had way too many horrid memories attached to them now.

Stepping into the shower, Eddie froze, not beginning to wash right away. He simply let the water run over him, watching the bloodstains on his knees begin trickling down his legs and disappear down the drain. _Jesus_. Richie’s blood had burrowed underneath his clothes and was living on his _skin_.

The thought made Eddie feel sick all over again. He gasped in a breath which quickly turned to another sob. He pressed his hand over his mouth in attempt to stop them, but for all the good it did. He had spent far too long trying to push down his cries over the last few hours, and now they were exploding out of him whether he liked it or not.

Pressing his hands against the wall of the shower in an effort to steady himself, Eddie pounded one of his palms against the tile in frustration. It wasn’t fucking fair that he and Richie had already lost so much time together, and now everything they had built for themselves over the last year and a half might be ripped out of their grip altogether.

Eddie’s back started heaving with each cry in and out, and he hunched over, letting the cries come. As he did so, he could still see the remnants of Richie’s blood swirling around the drain along with his own tears as they dripped down to join the stains of crimson.

~~~~~~~~~~

While Eddie had been in the shower, Bill also gathered up a bunch of the clothes in the bedroom and threw them in the washing machine. He was just turning it on in the utility closet in the hallway as Eddie made his way out of the bedroom.

“Feel better?” Bill asked.

Eddie’s face was red and swollen from the time he had spent crying in the shower, so he was pretty sure he didn’t _look_ any better. Shrugging, Eddie dried his hair with the towel he was still holding onto. “I don’t know.”

Emerging into the kitchen and then the hallway, Eddie realized that Bill had somehow gotten the entire bloodstain cleaned up. There was no longer any sign that Richie had been attacked there or that his blood had dripped out all over the place, but Eddie would always know. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to unsee that bloodstain or where it had been.

“Hey,” Bill said, “I found Richie’s wallet and keys by the door, so they weren’t stolen. You’ll still have to call a locksmith to fix the lock, but at least his cards are safe.”

Not that Eddie really even care about Richie’s cards. He supposed it was good that they hadn’t been stolen and he had one less thing to worry about, but nothing mattered except _Richie_. He only wanted _Richie_ to be safe, and he wasn’t sure if he would be.

“Did the hospital call?” Eddie asked, because all he needed to know was that Richie was still okay.

Bill shook his head. “No, no word, so Richie’s still okay.”

Eddie gave the living room, the den, the kitchen, and the guest bedroom a quick onceover, but they didn’t appear to be disturbed at all. If someone broke in, wouldn’t it likely be for financial gain? But they didn’t take Richie’s wallet (which had nearly one hundred dollars in it along with his bank cards), or any of their more expensive items, including their televisions, Blu-ray player, PlayStation, and Richie’s laptop. Eddie was more confused than ever, because whoever had broken in had searched the _fuck_ out of the bedroom, but it honestly didn’t appear as if anything in particular was missing. Moreover, what could they have even been _looking_ for in the bedroom to begin with? This wasn’t the olden days when people would store their life savings under the mattress or in their sock drawer. What else could have been hidden in with all their clothes that a burglar would have been after? It didn’t make any sense at all.

 _Seriously, what the fuck_?

All Eddie knew was that he was fucking tired and confused, and all he wanted to do was get back to the hospital to see Richie. Being at home where all this shit had happened in the first place was taking a toll on him, and Eddie didn’t think he could keep looking at that spot on the floor where Richie had bled out. Try as he might, his eyes inevitably kept going back to the area on the floor where Richie’s blood had been. If he looked at it one more time, Eddie was certain that he was going to lose his mind, so he asked Bill if they could go back to the hospital.

Eddie wasn’t even sure if he was in the right mind to drive, so he just ended up letting Bill drive them again. The last thing Eddie needed was to get into a car accident because he was so frazzled and end up in the hospital along with Richie.

The next three days dragged on a snail’s pace. Eddie spent as much time as he could at Richie’s bedside, holding his hand and talking to him. The nurses asked him to leave more than once so that Richie could get some rest, and it was really grating on Eddie’s nerves. He wasn’t even doing anything to disturb Richie, and if anything, he knew that Richie would benefit from his presence. If these nurses were at all familiar with Richie and Eddie’s nearly lifelong friendship and subsequent romance, they would know that!

However, it seemed like the nurses eventually gave up, because Eddie kept returning to Richie’s room whether they wanted him to or not. They would stare at Eddie sideways before simply going about their business and checking Richie’s vitals before leaving them both in peace. And that was the way Eddie liked it.

Since Richie’s condition was currently stable, Mike, Ben, and Bev were waiting on further word as to Richie’s recovery. Once he woke up and they had a better idea of how much healing Richie would have to do, they’d make arrangements to come to LA if need be. On the other hand, Bill never left Eddie’s side, and Eddie was fucking grateful for that. He even asked Bill more than once if he needed to get back to work or even go home to take care of some things, but Bill always told him that he and Richie were more important. Next to Audra, the Losers were more important to him than anything else in the world.

Bill made sure that Eddie ate (even though it was never much, because Eddie didn’t have much of an appetite) and got some sleep. Even when Eddie didn’t want to sleep, Bill sometimes made him try and take a nap in the waiting room, while Bill took up the vigil at Richie’s bedside. Eddie only ever dozed off here and there, because the waiting room was a shit place to sleep, and he was too on edge to even relax properly anyway.

Even so, Eddie didn’t think he’d ever be able to repay Bill for trying to take care of him through all of this.

~~~~~~~~~~

After three days (and honestly, it felt a lot longer than that to Eddie), the doctors told Eddie that the bleeding in Richie’s brain had stopped and the swelling had gone down as well. They would begin to taper him off the sedatives he’d been on, but it would probably still be another day or two before Richie awoke.

Eddie became a permanent fixture at Richie’s bedside after that. He wouldn’t even leave if Bill tried to get him to rest for a while, because Eddie was going to be there when Richie woke up, damnit!

It was nearing the end of the fourth day without any response from Richie, and Eddie was fucking beat. He’d been at Richie’s bedside the entire day, still holding his hand and talking to him. But his exhaustion had started to catch up to him, and he’d dozed off at some point.

Eddie was sitting in a bedside chair, and he’d rested his head on Richie’s bed at some point. He was still holding onto Richie’s hand, and he only intended to rest his eyes for a moment before sleep had claimed him completely.

The next thing Eddie knew, he felt Richie’s hand stir in his. This nearly made Eddie jump up out of his seat, and he was suddenly wide awake. He moved to the edge of his seat, his breathing coming in fast and heavy gasps.

“Richie?” Eddie asked quietly, not wanting to startle Richie too much if he finally was coming around.

Richie’s head moved to the side, towards Eddie’s direction, and this made Eddie’s heart leap up into his throat. _Oh shit_ , Richie was waking up, and Eddie felt excited and terrified all at once. Maybe Richie would be perfectly fine, and Eddie would have his husband back again. At the same time, he was scared to death that something would be seriously wrong with Richie, that he’d have some horrible brain damage and that he might even be able function anymore.

As it turned out, it was much worse than that.

Richie groaned, a sound of pain that made Eddie’s heart hurt. He squeezed Richie’s hand, wondering if he should call for a doctor. In the end, though, Eddie just wanted to spend Richie’s first moments of consciousness in four days alone with him, and then Eddie would get the attention of the medical staff.

Maybe, god, maybe everything would still be okay. Richie would wake up, make a stupid joke, and Eddie would know that his Richie was still there. But no, that wasn’t what was meant to be at all.

“I’m here, Rich,” Eddie said, using his other hand to rub gently at Richie’s forearm. “Everything’s okay.”

Richie opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but no sound came out. He closed it and opened it again several more times, like he was trying to get some moisture back in it; he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink by mouth in four days, so of course he was going to be thirsty.

When Richie groaned again, he squirmed a bit in his bed before stopping and squinting his eyes even more tightly closed. Eddie almost thought he had fallen back asleep, but then his eyes cracked open the tiniest bit. They were glassy and bloodshot as fuck, almost like he was waking up from a drunken stupor. The doctor had already reassured Eddie, however, that the bruising around his eyes would go down now that the bleeding in his brain had stopped; Eddie assumed that that went for the redness in them as well.

Richie stuck out his tongue, using it to try and wet his lips, running it over them repeatedly. He stared up at the ceiling like he didn’t know where he was or what was going on.

“Richie?” Eddie asked again, still quiet in his tone.

This caused Richie to look towards Eddie, his eyes only still half-open and unseeing. Richie didn’t even have his glasses on, so he wouldn’t even be able to tell what he was looking at anyway. Eddie still had Richie’s glasses in his pocket, but he would worry about giving them to Richie once he was sure that Richie knew what the fuck was happening. He had enough to process right now without Eddie trying to put stuff on his face.

Richie blinked several times in Eddie’s general direction, but he still looked completely confused and disoriented.

“It’s all right,” Eddie said, giving Richie’s hand a tight squeeze. “I’m here.”

Richie frowned then, closing his eyes again. Eddie wasn’t sure whether he had gone back to sleep again or not, but then his eyes opened once more.

“ _Eddie_?” Richie moaned out.

 _Oh god_. Richie sounded like he was in ridiculous amounts of pain, but it was still one of the best things Richie had ever said to him, bar none. Eddie was still pretty sure that Richie couldn’t see shit, so that meant that Richie had to recognize Eddie’s voice! Richie still knew who he was!

“ _Yeah_ ,” Eddie said around several relieved gasps of air. He was grinning and tears began springing up in his eyes, although it was now for a very different reason than before. “Yeah, man, it’s me. I’m here.”

“ _Why_?” Richie asked, turning his head to stare up at ceiling again. “Am I dreaming?”

Eddie was a little caught off guard by Richie’s questions at first, but Richie probably just didn’t realize he was in the hospital. He most likely couldn’t even remember what had happened to him, so of course he was asking why Eddie was even there and if this was real at all.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Richie asked, and he sounded confused as fuck.

Eddie let out a nervous laugh, because something horrible was suddenly nagging at the back of his mind. “No, you’re not dreaming, but…what do you mean? Where else would I be?”

“ _Home_?”

Eddie wasn’t sure if he should tell Richie what had happened, so he just said, “You’re in the hospital.” Richie’s head turned towards him sharply, and Eddie quickly added, “You’re fine. You’re going to be perfectly fine, but I came to see you. I…was worried.”

Richie blinked at him and then took a moment to look around the room. Not that it would do any good, because again, Richie didn’t have his glasses, but he was apparently trying to assess his surroundings nonetheless. “ _How_?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked again, still trying to keep his voice calm. Richie was just confused about what happened and he’d be fine once everything was explained to him. Eddie was sure of it. “How what?”

“How did you…Who _called_ you?”

“No-nobody called me,” Eddie replied. His throat almost felt too tight to speak, but Eddie pushed on, forcing it out anyway. “I…I came home, and…I was the one who called 911. I…I found you.”

A strange expression passed over Richie’s features. Part of it was complete and total confusion, Eddie was sure, but then Richie looked weirdly amused at the same time. He smiled in a lopsided kind of way, and he actually looked drunk as fuck. Eddie supposed that that wasn’t very far off, considering the amount of pain meds and sedatives they had him on. Richie giggled, and that was when Eddie was sure that he wasn’t currently firing on all eight cylinders anymore.

“What were you doing in my _home_?” Richie said. “Kind of weird.”

Eddie’s heart might have stopped in that moment. Oh dear god, Richie didn’t even remember they lived _together_? The _fuck_? What in hell else didn’t Richie know? Although Eddie really, really didn’t want the answer to that question anymore.

“I…we live together,” Eddie whispered, feeling embarrassed and small.

Richie only stared at him like Eddie was speaking in Greek or something.

“I’m, um…I’m going to call the doctor,” Eddie said, leaping up from his seat, because he was sure if he sat there and tried to talk to Richie anymore, he was going to lose his mind. “They…they wanted to know when you woke up anyway.”

Eddie heard Richie mumbling something, apparently trying to make sense out of all the madness going on around him, but Eddie didn’t give him a chance to get it all out. Eddie almost ran from the room and down to the nurses’ station, scared to death about what more Richie would say. About what more Richie could have forgotten.

It was a few minutes later before Doctor Reddy finally joined them, and by that time, Richie had fallen back asleep again. The doctor approached Richie’s bed, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Richie’s arm.

“Mr. Tozier?” she asked quietly.

“Richie,” Eddie corrected, standing back near the door. He was terrified to approach Richie’s bed, and he was even more scared about what else Richie could say to him. Wrapping his arms around himself tightly, Eddie added, “He hates being reminded that he’s old enough to be called ‘Mr. Tozier.’”

“Richie?” the doctor corrected. “Can you hear me?”

Stirring, Richie groaned again. “M’ head hurts.” His eyes were still closed, like he didn’t want to answer anymore questions and just wanted to sleep.

“I know,” the doctor said, making a note on the clipboard she had with her. “We’ll get you something for that. But can you tell me where you are?”

Richie licked his lips again before he said, “Hospital.”

“That’s right,” Doctor Reddy said. “And can you tell me who this is?”

It took a few seconds before Richie opened his eyes again to see where the doctor was pointing. For all the good it did, because Eddie was still across the room by the door, and Eddie knew Richie couldn’t see that far without his glasses.

“Am I taking an eye exam?” Richie asked, squinting in Eddie’s direction. “’Cause no, I can’t see shit right now. You’re going to have to give me my glasses if you want an honest answer to that question.”

It was perhaps the most Richie thing he had said since he had woken up, and it gave Eddie the tiniest bit of hope. Richie may be a bit confused and disoriented right now, but his dumbass wisecracking husband was at least still in there somewhere.

“I have your glasses,” Eddie said. He stepped forward, withdrawing Richie’s glasses from his pocket as he went. He quickly placed them on Richie’s nose before he stepped away, almost like he’d been burned, because he wasn’t sure if his gesture had been okay or not; maybe Richie would want to put his own glasses on right now.

But then Richie straightened his glasses, and that was perhaps one of the cutest things that Richie ever did. The way Richie grabbed the stem and wiggled them around until they sat properly on his nose was so adorable to Eddie for some reason, it made him want to kiss the shit out of him. Almost.

“Eddie,” Richie said. “My bestie. Not sure what he’s doing here though. Haven’t seen him in…since we were kids.”

Eddie’s heart _hurt_ at those words, because apparently, the last time Richie remembered having had any sort of contact with him was when they were kids. Richie no longer referred to Eddie as his husband, or his fiancé, or even his boyfriend. Eddie was just his ‘bestie’. Frowning deeply, Eddie tried not to burst into tears again, because he’d done enough crying as it was over the last four days. Not to mention, he didn’t want to scare Richie or make him even more confused than he already was; Richie had enough to worry about right now without wondering why Eddie was so upset.

“Do you know who the president is?” the doctor asked next.

“Yeah,” Richie said, but then he stopped, looking completely lost. “That, um…what’s his face? The dude from Hawaii.” Richie giggled again, but then his expression immediately turned serious. “I always wanted to go to Hawaii.”

Eddie shared a worried expression with the doctor, because Obama hasn’t been president for well over a year. At the same time, however, trust Richie to remember random ass information like where Obama had been born of all things. Even when he wasn’t completely sure what the fuck was going on, Richie was somehow still _Richie_.

 _His_ Richie.

His Richie was still in there somewhere, and that was what Eddie had to keep telling himself.

“Do you know what year it is?” Doctor Reddy asked him.

“Um,” Richie mumbled, frowning in thought. “Is it 2016?” He glanced at Eddie and said, “Yeah, 2016, I think.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around himself again, because no, it wasn’t. They were nearly three months into _2018_ , so something was very deeply wrong with Richie’s memory.

Making another note on her clipboard, the doctor asked, “Do you remember what happened to you?”

Richie shook his head, still staring at Eddie like Richie was waiting for him to help him fill in the blanks.

“What’s the very last thing you can remember before waking up here, Richie?” she asked.

Richie continued to shake his head in confusion, but then all at once, Richie’s expression morphed into one of complete and utter terror. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“ _Oh_ ,” Richie murmured, not taking his eyes off Eddie. “Did…did we have to fight the clown again? We did, didn’t we? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Is that what happened to me? Did Pennywise bash my head in or something?” Richie laughed again, and why in god’s name was he laughing at things that weren’t _funny_?

Eddie hugged himself even more tightly, sliding his left hand underneath his right bicep. Richie was probably too confused to even notice much less wonder why Eddie was wearing a wedding ring (along with a matching one on his index finger), but he didn’t want to risk any of the barrage of questions from Richie that might follow.

Eddie looked to the doctor next, at a complete loss for words. The doctor appeared just as confused, but why wouldn’t she? Richie was babbling on about the fucking clown that they had already killed, so the doctor might have been wondering if Richie had lost his goddamn mind entirely. Not only that, but Richie couldn’t even remember something Eddie had told him _two minutes previously_ – that Richie had been at home, _their_ home when this had happened to him.

“It’s…um,” Eddie explained to the doctor, pressing his right hand over his face, “it’s an inside joke – about the clown.” He also hoped that Richie would get the hint and stop talking about fucking _It_.

“Yeah,” Richie agreed, although it didn’t sound like he was entirely sure what he was even agreeing with. He looked back at the doctor, his head lolling around a bit as he did so. It looked like he was either dizzy or very tired, although it wasn’t clear which. “Um…yeah. I don’t know though. I don’t know the last thing I did.” He squinted straight ahead, not looking at either one of them anymore. “I don’t know.” He sounded lost and far away. Richie looked at Eddie again next and asked, “Are we in Maine? We are if we fought the clown, right? And you brought me to the hospital?”

Oh, Jesus Christ. If Richie couldn’t even remember enough to know not to go on about the fucking clown in front of the doctor, Eddie was really concerned for Richie’s state of mind.

When he didn’t get any sort of response from Eddie, Richie shifted uncomfortably in the bed, pressing a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes. “I don’t know though! I don’t fucking remember if we did or not! I don’t even remember how I found out about the clown again!” When his hand fell away from his head, his eyes were large and round. “Unless…did I fall over the balcony? Is that what happened?”

Eddie shook his head, covering his mouth with his hand. His reaction wasn’t entirely in response to Richie, but simply his own confusion about everything that was happening. Eddie didn’t even know what Richie meant about falling over the balcony. What balcony was he even _talking_ about? They didn’t have one at their current house, nor did Richie have one at his old apartment.

“Richie?” the doctor said, laying her hand over Richie’s arm again. “Listen to me. You hit your head and you’re a little bit confused right now-“

“HOW?” Richie demanded. “How did I hit my head?” Richie brought his hands up to his head again, placing his palms over his temples this time, either like he was in immense pain or trying very hard to remember something. Perhaps it was both.

“Richie?” the doctor asked again. “We’re going to get you something for your head, okay? Until we do that, why don’t you lie down and close your eyes for a little while? That will help with the pain and how about some water? I bet you’re thirsty.”

Richie had been on an IV and feeding tube for four days! Eddie wanted to tell the doctor that of course he was thirsty, but he didn’t think that would be prudent right now. Eddie kept his hand over his mouth, turning to stare out the door and into the hallway. A tiny part of him wanted to run away. As desperately as he’d been to stay by Richie’s bedside over the last few days, it suddenly felt too stifling in there now. Eddie felt just as lost as Richie, maybe even more so, not even having the first clue where his husband’s mind was _at_.

“Yeah,” Richie moaned, relaxing his head back against the pillows. “I am.” He looked at Eddie one last time, frowning deeply before he closed his eyes.

Eddie wasn’t even sure if he had fallen back asleep or not yet, but the doctor motioned for Eddie to follow her out into the hall. He went, but then he felt torn, like he shouldn’t leave Richie alone in his current state. A moment before, Eddie wanted to run, and now he wanted to stay. Eddie contained the urge to laugh a little bit hysterically, because Jesus Christ, he wasn’t even sure if he was coming or going anymore.

“Okay,” Eddie reiterated as soon as they were out of earshot, “the clown is an inside joke. I don’t know why he keeps talking about it, but…he isn’t crazy.” But then Eddie swallowed, because he didn’t know how else to describe Richie’s behavior. “Not about that, at least.”

“That’s good to know,” Doctor Reddy said, writing down something else on her clipboard. “All in all though, he generally seems to be okay.”

Eddie scoffed, whirling around to face the doctor and waving his arms like a lunatic. “’Okay’? Are you fucking _kidding_ me? He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on! He doesn’t even know which way is up!” Eddie wasn’t sure why he was suddenly screaming and swearing at the doctor; he knew that none of this was her fault, but Eddie couldn’t quite help it. He was confused himself and stressed out beyond belief. If he had his inhaler with him, he’d be using it up the ass just for the comfort that it provided him.

“He’s experiencing some confusion,” the doctor agreed, nodding, “but his speech itself and his physical coordination don’t seem to be affected. That’s actually very hopeful, because like I told you, he could have experienced any multitude of physical or mental disabilities as a result of his injury. As it is, he only seems to have some memory loss.”

“’Some memory loss’?” Eddie asked incredulously. He scoffed again, because what the fuck was wrong with this doctor? Richie very clearly didn’t even remember that they were married, didn’t think they’d talked since they were kids, so this was a big goddamn deal! “He thinks it’s 2016! Newsflash, doc. It’s 2018!”

Eddie still wasn’t sure why he was taking all of this out on the doctor, but he supposed it was because she was there. There was no one else to rage at right now, and Eddie felt like he had reached the end of his rope. Seriously, if Eddie ever got his hands on the monster that had done this to his husband, Eddie would likely be in jail for murder.

“Which isn’t entirely unexpected,” the doctor replied, writing yet something else on that stupid clipboard of hers. “In many cases like this, the memory loss isn’t even permanent. He will most likely start remember things as time goes on, and if he doesn’t…two years isn’t a long time all things considered. Believe me, the lookout could have been so much worse than it is.”

Eddie pressed his hands over his eyes, because he couldn’t even look at the doctor anymore. Two years may not have been that long in the grand scheme of things, but to him and Richie, it may as well have been everything. He didn’t remember marrying Eddie. He didn’t even remember their confession of love and first kiss on the cliff above the quarry while everyone else swam in the filthy down below.

~~~~~~~~~~

_“I am not fucking going down there!” Eddie bit out, pointing his finger towards the edge of the cliff. The four other Losers were already down in the water, splashing around and chatting away happily about something. “Jesus fucking Christ, do you know what’s down there?”_

_“You weren’t all that concerned about it when we were children,” Richie pointed out, toeing off his shoes and pulling off his yellow button-down shirt._

_“You’re not fucking going down there either!” Eddie snapped, grabbing onto Richie’s t-shirt and pulling him away from the cliff. “I will never fucking forgive you! Do you have any idea how much more dangerous a staph infection can be to people our age?”_

_“Dude,” Richie said nonchalantly, trying to pull out of Eddie’s grasp, “we were just down in the fucking sewer. It’s not like washing ourselves off in dirty water is going to make much of a difference.”_

_“Jesus Christ, Rich!” Eddie yanked on Richie’s t-shirt again, pulling him back even more sharply this time. When Richie was facing him, Eddie added his other hand to the front of Richie shirt, shaking him slightly. “Don’t even think about it,” he bit out. “There’s plenty of clean water back at the inn where we can bathe ourselves properly.”_

_Richie blinked at him, because Eddie was standing ridiculously close to him. Eddie was on his tiptoes, their noses only a few inches apart. Richie had been about to say something, but he could no longer remember what it was._

_“Know what?” Eddie asked._

_“What?”_

_“I promised myself when we were down in the sewer, that I’d just fucking do this if we both made it out safely.”_

_“Do what?”_

_And then it happened all at once. Eddie leaned forward, straining up towards Richie as he pulled Richie down towards him. Fisting his hands in the front of Richie’s shirt, Eddie kissed Richie fiercely. Richie felt like his brain was flailing around for any sort of words, anything to express what in the world he was feeling, but his mind was blank. Completely blank, except for words like ‘Eddie’, and ‘kiss’, and ‘shit’ floating around in there somewhere. And then it clicked somewhere in his mind, because holy shit. He was_ kissing Eddie fucking Kaspbrak _. Or better yet, Eddie fucking Kaspbrak was kissing_ him.

_All too soon, Eddie pulled away and that one glorious moment that Richie had been hoping and praying for all his life was over as quickly as it had begun. Eddie was staring at him, wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open, and then doubt seemed to flash across his eyes. Eddie began to turn away, but Richie certainly couldn’t have that. Couldn’t let Eddie think, even for a moment, that Richie didn’t want this too. Didn’t hunger for this every day of his life for the last twenty-seven years._

_He reached out for Eddie’s arm, pulling Eddie back to face him before he returned the gesture. Richie leaned down to Eddie’s height, kissing Eddie back. Where Eddie’s kiss had been desperate and needy, however, Richie kissed Eddie so slowly and tenderly, like Eddie might disappear if he did it any harder. It was probably the softest thing Richie had ever done in his life, he decided._

_But then that kiss was over too, and Richie wanted to scream, because he didn’t want it to be. Not fucking yet, because he and Eddie had way too much time to make up for. In fact, Richie kind of wanted to stand there all afternoon, making out with Eddie as the sun dried the sewer water on their clothes._

_Romantic._

_Eddie was breathing hard now, still staring at Richie like he didn’t know what the hell was happening. Like he didn’t know what was going on in Richie’s mind, even though Richie didn’t think he’d left any doubt as to his thought process right now._

_“What took you so long?” Richie asked, feeling himself grinning like an absolute lunatic. “I’ve wanted you to do that forever.”_

_“Yeah?” Eddie asked uncertainly, focusing on Richie’s t-shirt now, like he was having difficulty meeting Richie’s eyes._

_“Yeah,” Richie said. He reached up with his free hand, using his thumb and forefinger to direct Eddie’s chin upwards. When Eddie met his eyes again, Richie said, “I’ve loved you since we were thirteen.”_

_A grin broke out over Eddie’s features, but then he fastened his teeth over his lower lip in an attempt to stop it. His eyes were dancing with excitement, and Richie didn’t think he had ever seen Eddie look so positively exuberant in his life. It was like he might combust from it all._

_“What took_ you _so long?” Eddie asked. “I’ve wanted to you tell me that forever.” He paused, searching Richie’s eyes like he was still checking to make sure that Richie wanted this as much as he did. Finally, Eddie said, “I love you. Always have, always will,” he added before diving back in to kiss Richie once more._

~~~~~~~~~~

Gone. All of that was gone from Richie’s mind, and that was pretty fucking significant! Eddie looked down at his and Richie’s wedding bands on his hand, running his thumb over them like that might somehow make everything better. Tears were stinging at his eyes again, and he tried as hard as he could to hold them in, but he didn’t feel like he had the strength to anymore.

“Listen,” the doctor said, “let’s let him rest for a little while. That was obviously very taxing and upsetting for him, and sleep will help him a lot right now. We’ll get him some more pain meds and some water, and then we can try talking to him again. If he doesn’t seem too agitated, we can try explaining exactly what happened to him, and then maybe he won’t be so confused.”

Eddie wanted to ask the doctor how she could be so calm, but he supposed she was used to this sort of thing by now. Besides, it wasn’t like Richie was her husband. She hadn’t come home to find the love of _her_ life in a pool of his own blood on the floor only to wake up with absolutely no clue who he was even _married_ to.

“Can…can we not tell him I’m his husband just yet?” Eddie asked, even though he wasn’t sure where his question was even stemming from.

“Try and understand,” Doctor Reddy explained, “it’s going to help if you surround him with familiar things and remind him of things he might not remember just yet. It may help to stir his memories a little bit.”

“I just…” Eddie broke off, turning away from her and putting his hands on his hips. He stared down at the floor before he said, “It’s the principle of the thing, I guess. I’d…feel better if he remembered on his own.”

“That makes sense,” the doctor agreed. “But in the meantime, why don’t you go get something to eat, and by then, Richie might be awake and we can try again.”

Eddie nodded as she passed him, and he watched her back retreat down the hall. What the doctor said made sense too, but at the same time, Eddie stood by what he said. All he could think about was how he would feel if he woke up in the hospital with absolutely no memory of how he got there. How would he react if Richie told him they were married and Eddie couldn’t remember it? Couldn’t remember ever admitting his love to Richie or kissing him down by the quarry? What if his entire romantic relationship with Richie was wiped from his memory and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever remember it or not?

He’d feel like absolute shit for forgetting his husband. That was all there was to it, and he wasn’t going to put Richie through that. He loved Richie more than anything in the world, and Eddie would never purposely put that kind of stress or pressure on him.

Eddie wouldn’t do that to him. Not now, not ever, and Eddie didn’t care if it killed him in the process. Richie was the love of his life; Eddie would take all the heartache and more if it meant protecting Richie from feeling like the worst husband in the world. Because he wasn’t. Maybe Eddie was for not being there to protect his husband from this in the first place, but Richie wasn’t. Never Richie.

_To be continued…_


	5. Lies

Eddie ended up collapsing in a chair in the waiting room. He buried his head in his hands and cried for what felt like ages. Bill sat next to him the entire time, one of his hands firmly around Eddie’s shoulders and his other on Eddie’s knee. Bill alternated between asking what had happened and reassuring Eddie that everything would be okay.

Even though Eddie knew things would never be okay ever again. He knew Bill was simply trying his best to be positive, to give Eddie something to hold onto, but Richie didn’t even know he was married to Eddie! Didn’t even know that he and Eddie had admitted their feelings for each other a year and a half ago above the quarry in Derry.

“He doesn’t remember me!” Eddie finally shouted in frustration, because he couldn’t quite take anymore of Bill’s reassurances. A couple of the other people in the waiting room stopped to look at him, but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to care.

Bill tightened his grip on Eddie, but he didn’t say anything. It felt like he might have been fumbling for words, but in the end, he waited for Eddie to go on.

“I mean, he does remember me,” Eddie added hastily, rubbing at his face and drying his tears with this back of his hand. “He remembers when we were kids, but…not anything recent. He seems to think it’s 2016 again.” Eddie hung his head and let his hand drop to his lap, resting his elbows on his knees. He wrung his hands together as he said, “He’s kind of vaguely aware that we fought the clown again, but doesn’t remember any specifics about it or anything beyond that. Nothing about our relationship at all.”

“Eds…” Bill said around a sigh, but his words seemed to die in his throat. He pulled Eddie closer to him, letting Eddie rest his head against his shoulder.

“He kept going on about the clown,” Eddie said, because he needed to focus on something else for a moment before he lost his mind entirely. He forced out a laugh and added, “I think the doctor was seriously concerned about his sanity, so I tried to cover it up by telling her the clown is an inside joke between us.” Eddie lifted his head slightly, just so he could see Bill out of the corner of his eye. “Just in case he keeps talking about it.”

“Inside joke,” Bill repeated, nodding. “How did he seem otherwise though? Any physical or mental impairments like the doctor talked about?”

Eddie shook his head. He sniffled a bit, because they were treading back into the territory that he didn’t feel quite ready to confront just yet. “I don’t think so. He did seem a bit irritable, but the doctor seemed to think that was normal. He’s just confused about what happened and doesn’t understand why he’s in the hospital, or why I’m here.” Eddie laughed again, an almost angry and bitter sound. “He doesn’t understand why I’m here.” He sat up more fully so that he could look Bill in the eye. “I told him we lived together, and…he seemed to forget about it a few minutes later. So…I don’t know. There may be an issue with his memory.”

Eddie frowned deeply, now well aware of the fact that he was rambling. Now that Bill had gotten him talking about it, Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to stop. It was what he did sometimes, and it was when he desperately felt Richie’s absence. More and more over the last year and a half, Richie would hold him and kiss him whenever things got to be too overwhelming, and Eddie could feel his anxiety begin to melt away. Now he was left to deal with it on his own, and he wasn’t sure what he would do if Richie never remembered their relationship. Remembered all the little things they would do for each other. All the little ways Richie could bring him down from a panic attack.

“Does…um, does the doctor think it’s permanent?” Bill asked tentatively.

Eddie shook his head. “She said probably not. That we should surround him with familiar things and talk about the things that he’s forgotten. She thinks it may help to stir his memories a bit.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Bill said. “We’ll talk about the clown some more and make the doctor think we’re all a bunch of lunatics.”

This managed to earn the smallest smile from Eddie as he continued to wipe at his eyes.

“I’m going to call the others and tell them they need to come,” Bill continued. “It’ll probably help his memory if he can talk to all of us. You can bring the photo album from your wedding-“

Eddie shook his head frantically. “I’m not going to do that to him. I already told the doctor, but no one is going to tell him we’re married.”

“But the doctor said-“

“I know what she said,” Eddie cut Bill off, “but our wedding is off the table.” Bill stared at him and Eddie asked, “How would you feel if you woke up in the hospital without any memory of how you got there? What if you had a woman – a _beautiful_ woman like Audra telling you that she was your wife and you had absolutely no memory of her in that way? Tell me you wouldn’t feel like the worst husband on the face of the earth.”

Bill was quiet for a very long time before he said, “It isn’t Richie’s fault.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Eddie replied, “but he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t understand why he’s here or what happened to him, so I think he’s going to feel guilty, even after everything is explained to him. I know how his mind works. He’s confused enough as it is without finding out he’s married to _me_.” Bill opened his mouth to say something, but Eddie spoke over him. “I’m not going to do that to him, Bill.”

“All right,” Bill said slowly after a minute. “We won’t tell him. Not if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Eddie admitted, fighting to suppress the sob that threatened to escape him. He pressed a hand over his mouth and shut his eyes until the sensation passed. When he spoke again, he said, “God, I want nothing more than to tell him the truth, but I just feel like it would put more pressure on him than he needs right now. I mean, what if he doesn’t even feel the same way about me anymore?” Eddie looked at Bill a bit desperately, his eyes wide.

Honestly, perhaps that was what Eddie was the most scared about in this entire situation. What if Eddie did tell Richie that they were married, and Richie looked at him like he was a lunatic? What if Richie laughed and thought the entire thing was a joke? What if Richie told him that he would never marry Eddie because he wasn’t in love with him?

Bill, however, shook his head furiously. He moved both his hands to Eddie’s shoulders and gripped them fiercely. “Don’t think for one second that he doesn’t still love you. He loves you desperately and this isn’t going to change that.”

“He doesn’t remember anything about _us_ and what if he never does?” Eddie asked helplessly. “What am I going to do, Bill?” Eddie slumped forward, burying his head in his hands. “He’s my everything. What am I doing to do without him?”

“Eddie,” Bill said, “he remembers. You told me when he confessed his love to you, he said he was in love with you since you were thirteen. _Thirteen_. He may not remember your actual relationship or your marriage, but he’ll always remember how he feels about you. Feelings like that, feelings buried that deep don’t just go away. It’s why you two were still desperately in love with each other even after twenty years apart. Why you were able to fall back into your relationship so easily like you hadn’t spent any time apart at all.”

Bill was right about that much anyway. Perhaps the easiest thing Eddie had ever done was pick up his friendship with Richie right where they had left off. Why they were able to fall right back into the pattern of disguising their feelings for each other with jokes. The only thing Eddie had done in his life that had been easier was falling in love with Richie to begin with.

“In fact,” Bill said, “I think Richie loved you way before that. Thirteen might have been when he realized it, but…he told me once that he didn’t remember what it was like to _not_ love you. That…it was a part of him just like breathing.”

Eddie sat up, staring at Bill. “He said that?”

Bill nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

~~~~~~~~~~

_It was nearly two o’clock in the fucking morning on the day of his wedding, and Richie was lying wide awake in his bed in the hotel that he and Eddie had picked out for the reception. In just a few short hours, he and Eddie would be exchanging their vows on the beach not far from the hotel, and Richie was scared out of his mind._

_He and Eddie had been living together for six months, but their relationship was still so new. Technically, they’d been together for a year, even as Eddie had spent the first half of their relationship tying things up with Myra and his job in New York before moving to be with Richie in LA._

_A part of Richie kind of still kept expecting Eddie to get sick of him and leave. To tell him that living together was way too much too soon, and that Richie was on his last nerve. But here they were on the morning of their wedding, and so far as Richie knew, the ceremony was still on. Richie knew that Eddie loved him, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie would really be there on the beach that afternoon. If Eddie would realize that being in a relationship was one thing, but living with him and marrying him was entirely another._

_Richie flopped over onto his stomach and reached for his phone on the bedside table. He scrolled through his contacts, briefly hesitating on Eddie’s name. In the end, he decided against disturbing Eddie, because knowing his fiancé, he was probably having his own mental breakdown. Not to mention, Beverly had told them it was bad luck to see or even talk to each other before the ceremony, and Eddie seemed to be taking that very seriously. Richie thought it was all just silly superstition, but if Eddie wanted to wait until the wedding, then Richie would honor his wishes._

_Richie scrolled past the names of the other Losers before returning to Bill’s name, because he was the one most likely to still be awake at this ungodly hour. Bill had been working on a new book idea, and he would often stay up late and write so he could get some work done while the rest of the world slept and left him in peace._

_Tapping on Bill’s name, Richie typed out a quick text message to him._

Richie (2:00 AM): Are you still awake?

Billiam (2:01 AM): You know it’s physically impossible for me to sleep before three. What’s up?

Richie (2:01 AM): Can’t sleep. Does anyone before their wedding?

Billiam (2:02 AM): Apparently Audra said she slept like a rock, but I think she was lying. I didn’t sleep a wink at any rate.

Richie (2:02 AM): Can I talk to you for a minute before I go fucking crazy?

Billiam (2:03 AM): Wanna meet where we had the party?

_A few seconds later, Richie was grabbing his glasses from the bedside table before pulling on his pair of jeans from the previous day. He hurriedly slipped his sneakers on and ran his hands through his hair so he wouldn’t look like he’d just rolled out of bed. Not that anyone (besides Bill) would probably see him though, considering how late it was. Richie grabbed his key card before leaving the room._

_Richie still had his t-shirt on that he had been trying to sleep in, but when he got outside, he wished that he had grabbed a sweatshirt too. It was October first, and it got cold on the beach at night. He wrapped his arms around himself as he made his way down to the deck at the back of hotel where they’d had their pre-wedding dinner the night before._

_Bill was already waiting for him, leaning over the railing and looking out over the ocean. At least Bill honestly did look like he’d been up all night, so at least Richie really hadn’t disturbed him (except from writing his novel)._

_The moon was nearly full, hanging over the ocean and illuminating the rippling water with a million tiny diamonds of light. Richie almost wished Eddie was there with him, but they’d have all the time in the world to watch the moon that night._

_“What’s up?” Bill asked when he saw Richie approach._

_Running his hands through his hair again, Richie joined Bill at the railing. Richie slumped onto it with his elbows and looked out over the ocean for a while before he said anything._

_“Tell me I’m being ridiculous,” Richie eventually said._

_“Um, about what exactly?” Bill asked, turning his head to look at him. “Because, yes, you are ridiculous, but I doubt that’s why you dragged me down here at two in the morning, is it?”_

_Richie huffed out a breath through his bottom lip, sending a lock of his hair off his forehead for a moment. “You’re Eddie’s best man.”_

_“Uh huh,” Bill replied, staring at Richie out of the corner of his eye. “It honestly took you this long to notice? Goddamn, you’re smitten.”_

_Richie could feel his cheeks grow warm despite the cool breeze blowing in off the ocean just then. It ruffled his bright yellow t-shirt and blew his hair off his forehead again. “No, but…Eddie’s talked to you about me, right?”_

_Bill snorted. “Are you fucking kidding me? He doesn’t shut up about you.”_

_Trying not to grin, Richie diverted his face away from Bill’s for a moment until the sensation passed. “Okay,” he said, once he was looking at Bill again, “so you don’t think he’s going to stand me up, do you?”_

_Pushing himself away from the railing, Bill stood up straighter and turned to face Richie fully. “You’re seriously asking that twelve hours before your wedding? Don’t you think Eddie would have said something by now if he was having second thoughts?”_

_Hunching over even farther, Richie buried his head in his hands. “I was looking for reassurance. Not for you to ask me even more questions that I don’t fucking know the answer to.”_

_A moment of silence passed, and then Richie felt Bill’s hand on his arm. He pulled one of Richie’s hands away from his face and said, “Rich, look at me.”_

_Richie bit at his bottom lip before he met Bill’s eyes again._

_“Listen to me,” Bill said firmly. “Eddie told me not more than three hours ago that he couldn’t believe he was only a day away from having everything he’s ever wanted. Believe me, he loves you and he wants to marry you…I think more than he’s ever wanted anything.”_

_Richie wrung his hands together and asked, “He said that?”_

_Bill nodded. “Yeah.”_

_Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Richie looked out over the ocean, hoping that the serenity of it would help to calm him in some small way. “So I am being ridiculous.”_

_“No, not ridiculous,” Bill replied. “I think it’s normal to have these kinds of fears and doubts before taking such a big step. It was for me anyway.”_

_Richie stared down at his hands, pretending to be fascinated with the way he was twisting his fingers together so he wouldn’t have to meet Bill’s eyes. “Okay. ‘Cause I love him so much, you know? Sometimes it’s hard to believe he can feel as intensely about me as I do about him. I just…I’ve loved him for so long, I don’t remember what it’s like to_ not _love him. It’s…second nature to me now like breathing is. And…it’s kind of second nature too to wonder if it’s just me. If I’m the only person in the world that feels this way.”_

_Bill rested his hand on Richie’s shoulder before he said, “It’s not just you. Because Eddie’s just as crazy about you.”_

_Richie returned to his room a little while later, feeling marginally better, but still going over his doubts in his mind. A moment later, however, a text came through on his phone that managed to assuage most of the rest of his fears._

Eds (2:31 AM): I know we’re not supposed to talk to each other, but I love you and I can’t wait to marry you. :)

_Richie didn’t reply, but he sat on the edge of his bed and stared down at his phone with a fucking goofy grin on his face that Eddie would probably make fun of him for. But goddamn it, he was happier than he’d been in his entire life._

_Soon after, he’d laid down and sleep came easily to him after that._

~~~~~~~~~~

It was hard for Eddie contain the tears building up in his eyes after that. It was a combination of imagining Richie being so fucking insecure just before their wedding and wondering if things would ever be like that between him and Richie ever again. Despite Bill’s reassurances to the contrary, what if Richie’s feelings for him were different and what if he only thought of Eddie as a friend now? What if he never remembered the things that he and Eddie and shared together over their very short year and a half together, and what if he didn’t even remember his feelings for Eddie at all? Eddie didn’t think he could deal with that; he couldn’t handle having a taste of this idyllic life with Richie only to have it ripped away from him before he could scarcely even process it. He couldn’t.

“I promise he still loves you,” Bill told him, pulling Eddie out of his reverie. “He probably just thinks you two haven’t admitted it yet, and now he’s terrified of telling you his feelings all over again. I know…that was a shitty place for you two to be – still dancing around your feelings for each other – but I know they’re still there. They’re not going to just disappear.”

“So what are you saying?” Eddie asked. “That I should just grab him, kiss him, and see what happens?”

“Not if it’s going to make you uncomfortable, no. I just don’t think Richie would be opposed to it. That’s all.”

Eddie forced himself to smile, but he wasn’t feeling it, and he knew it didn’t reach all the way to his eyes. He just didn’t think he had the courage to make a move like that again, especially when it felt like it had taken every ounce of courage from his first forty years of life to kiss Richie the first time. Eddie couldn’t bear making himself that vulnerable again, not when he still had so many doubts as to whether Richie’s feelings for him had survived the attack or not.

It had only been a year and a half since he and Richie had been able to stop censoring themselves around each other, and it was exhausting thinking of going back to that. Going back to a time when he’d have to stop and think twice before reaching out for Richie’s hand. Before hugging him from behind and pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck. Before waking up and immediately reaching out for his husband for some morning cuddles (and perhaps a bit more) before they had to get ready for the day.

Was Bill right? If Eddie just kissed Richie then and there would it…stir something in his mind and help him remember what he’d forgotten? Maybe, but Eddie simply couldn’t bear the thought of Richie’s reaction if it didn’t. Would Richie stare at him like he was a lunatic and ask him what in the hell he was thinking? What if Richie said that he loved Eddie as a friend, but he didn’t like him in _that_ way?

Like they were kids all over again. Like the last year and a half had never happened. Like Richie’s feelings had never happened.

There was no way in hell Eddie was going to risk being on the receiving end of a reaction like that again from Richie. At least not right now. Maybe once things were explained to Richie and he had a better idea of what had happened, Eddie would think about making a move again. Maybe.

Little did Eddie know that he was a long time removed from feeling that comfortable with Richie again.

~~~~~~~~~~

True to his word, Bill called the rest of the Losers and told them that it would probably be for the best if they came LA. They promised that they would all be on a plane the following day, which made Eddie feel the tiniest bit better. Maybe Bill was right, and seeing all of the Losers together would jog something in Richie’s mind.

Bill then called Jason, Richie’s manager to let him know what was happening. Jason was already aware that something was going on given the fact that Richie hadn’t answered his phone for three days and there were rumors swirling around on social media that Richie Tozier was in the hospital. Jason said he was about to stop at Richie and Eddie’s home to find out what in the hell was happening, so it was good that Bill had finally called him.

Jason said he would put out a statement about Richie being involved in an accident, but he would keep the details to a minimum. Eddie thought it was better to release at least a little bit of information rather than let the unfounded rumors keep circulating. Rumors would still fly as fans tried to figure out exactly what was going on, but with a few facts to go on, hopefully they wouldn’t get too out of hand. Eddie only hoped that they had made the right decision for Richie.

After finishing his phone calls, Bill rejoined Eddie where he was sitting in the waiting room. He had two cups of coffee and was holding one out for Eddie.

“Thanks, Bill,” Eddie said as he accepted the steaming cup. Considering the fact that Eddie already felt frazzled beyond belief, he didn’t know if coffee was the best thing for him right now, but at least holding the warm cup gave him something to do with his hands. The warmth between them also felt soothing in a way. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” Eddie added, blowing at his coffee.

“Hey,” Bill said, placing his free hand on Eddie’s back, “I’ll do whatever you need me to, okay? Do you need me to call anyone else? What about your work, did you call them?”

Eddie nodded as he tentatively sipped at his coffee. Strangely, just feeling the hot liquid slide over his tongue and down his throat felt oddly calming to him. Maybe it was just for the simple fact that he was doing something as mundane as _drinking coffee_ , because his life felt like it had taken a turn into absolute madness, and he had no idea when things would start to go back to normal for him. And Richie. If that ever even happened.

Gone were the stupidly simple days of clearing their calendars for the weekend so they could do dumb things like cuddle, and get on each other’s nerves, and make love. Everything had taken a detour into the unknown, and Eddie was left wondering if he would ever have that ordinary life with Richie ever again.

“Yeah,” Eddie told Bill, forcing himself to stop wondering about things that were beyond his control. “At least my boss is understanding about shit like this. She told me to keep her posted, but to take as much time as I needed. She’d make sure my work was covered for the foreseeable future.”

“Good,” Bill said, “because I was about to call her and give her a piece of my mind if she gave you a hard time.”

Eddie smiled to himself as he took another sip from his coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearly another hour later when Eddie and Bill were being led back to Richie’s room again. Richie had woken up and had apparently been asking for Eddie over and over again. That made Eddie feel the tiniest bit better – that Richie seemed to want him around after everything that had happened. Bill seemed a bit unsure about joining Eddie at first, but Eddie all but begged him to come, because he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing Richie so confused and irritable again by himself. At least the doctor thought Bill would be a good visitor for Richie to have right now, because it might help him to remember some things.

Richie was sitting up in bed with a small cup of water clutched tightly in his hands. It looked like he was trying very hard to remember something, and that he might have been hurting himself from the exertion. But when he saw Eddie enter, Richie’s face immediately relaxed and he smiled.

“Eddie,” Richie said, almost like the name was a mantra that Richie was using to calm himself. “I thought you went home and left me here.”

“No,” Eddie said, hurrying across the room to stand at the side of Richie’s bed. “I’m here. I wouldn’t leave without telling you. We were just letting you get some rest.”

Bill was still standing by the door, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself, so the doctor took the initiative.

“Richie?” she asked. “Do you know who this is?” She gestured towards Bill.

Richie frowned deeply, and for a moment, Eddie almost thought that he didn’t recognize Bill. Eddie’s stomach dropped, because fuck, if Richie had problems remembering the other Losers, then Eddie was _really_ concerned for his memory.

But then almost as quickly, Richie’s frown was replaced with an expression of understanding. “Bill,” he said quietly. “Another one of my best friends. Not sure what you guys are doing here though. Is it because I’m in the hospital? Is that why you’re here?”

Eddie bit at his bottom lip uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to another. He wasn’t even sure how to try and answer Richie’s question, so he looked to the doctor for some guidance.

“Richie?” the doctor said again, laying a soft hand on his arm. “Do you remember I told you that you hit your head?”

Richie blinked and he said, “Yeah, I guess.” Richie’s answer was automatic, like he had absolutely no idea what the doctor was talking about. It was the same tone Richie used when he tuned Eddie out and really had no fucking clue what he was even answering. It didn’t happen often, but it happened enough that Eddie recognized it.

“But you don’t remember how that happened, do you?” Doctor Reddy asked.

Richie shook his head, but then he seemed to regret that. He stilled, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth in expression of pain.

“The painkillers we gave you will help with that in a bit,” the doctor reassured him.

“I don’t remember,” Richie said, his voice almost coming out as a whine. It was the same way Richie sounded when he was sick and he wanted Eddie to bring him soup and tea, and tuck him into bed. He stared at Eddie helplessly, almost like Eddie would make everything make sense to him again.

“It’s okay,” the doctor said.

Eddie wanted to scream that it was most definitely not okay! Richie’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, like a deer caught in headlights. It looked like didn’t even know which way was up, and Eddie wanted to make it stop. He wanted nothing more than to wrap Richie in his arms, tell the doctor to leave him alone, and reassure Richie that everything would be okay.

But Eddie had no idea if it ever would be.

The doctor took a deep breath before she said, “Someone broke into your home and hit you on the head. That’s why you’re in the hospital. But you’re doing just fine. You’ll be fine.”

Richie stared at the doctor and blinked at her several times like he was having trouble understanding what she was saying. Like her words didn’t make any sense to him. Then Richie looked at Eddie, like Eddie was the only person in the room that added up to him.

“So it wasn’t the clown,” Richie said, his eyes going back and forth between Eddie and Bill. “I thought it was the clown.” Richie giggled, that confused and lost sound like he had no idea what was even happening to him. When he seemed to finally collect himself, he asked, “Is that why you guys came to see me? Because I got attacked?”

“Rich…” Eddie began, but then he stopped, not sure if he should try and explain things further. He desperately wanted to reach out and grip Richie’s hand, but he wasn’t sure if the gesture would be welcome or not. Besides, he was too busy keeping his left hand along with his and Richie’s wedding rings hidden in his back pocket. A moment later, Eddie felt Bill’s hand on his shoulder, so he plunged ahead. “We live together. Remember I told you that? I came home and…I found you.”

“Oh,” Richie replied, and his voice was hollow, confused.

“But Eddie called me and told me what happened to you,” Bill said, and Eddie was grateful for his initiative. “That’s why I’m here. And the other Losers are coming too, because they’re all worried. You remember them too, right?”

“Yeah,” Richie said slowly, his eyes drifting off to stare at the hallway beyond the doorway. “Ben, and Bev, and Mike.” He blinked, his gaze returning to Eddie. “Stan…he’s…dead, isn’t he?”

Eddie’s heart clenched uncomfortably at Richie’s words, but on the other hand, he felt a bit reassured that Richie remembered something that happened after Mike called them. “Yeah,” Eddie whispered, trying his best to keep his voice steady. He lost all of his will power then, reaching out for Richie’s hand. He resisted the urge to grip it too tightly, just it laying over top of Richie’s. And then, was it Eddie’s imagination, or did Richie seem to relax the tiniest bit once Eddie was touching him? Eddie hoped to god that it was true.

“Is…” Richie began, his eyes quickly darting to the doctor. When he looked at Eddie and Bill again, his voice was a whisper. “Is It dead? Did we kill It?”

At least it seemed like Richie now understood that he shouldn’t be talking about the clown so openly around other people. That was a good sign too.

“Yeah,” Bill replied. “We killed the shit out of It.”

“Oh,” Richie replied. “Okay, good.” Richie had rested his head back against his pillow and was staring up at the ceiling.

The doctor officially looked like she was ready to commit them all, and Eddie had to suppress the urge to laugh. It felt good that Richie seemed to understand a little bit more about what had happened, and Eddie loved having ‘inside jokes’ between himself and the other Losers. It always made him feel accepted and included, something he had been searching for for most of his life.

When he returned his gaze to Eddie, Richie asked, “And then we moved in together?” There was that stupid giggle again, and why in god’s name did he keep doing that? “I thought I drove you up the wall.” There was a spark in Richie’s eyes like he was on the verge of teasing Eddie even more over the fact that they lived together now, but just as quickly, it was gone. Richie was back to looking confused.

Eddie had to take a deep breath and swallow to find his voice. It fucking hurt to hear Richie so confused over the fact that they lived together, to not have any inkling that they had moved in together about six months after beginning their relationship together.

“Yeah,” Eddie bit out, struggling to contain the sob that threatened to escape him again. “I…I divorced Myra, remember? You…you offered me a place to stay.” It wasn’t a _complete_ lie, because both of those things had happened. Just not in the way Richie thought.

“Oh, yeah,” Richie murmured. “Myra.” Richie sounded slightly drunk again, and Eddie assumed it was probably a side effect of the painkillers they had given him. He was staring up at the ceiling again when he said, “I guess it’s good you were there, huh?” Richie stared at Eddie again, and Eddie thought he could see the faintest glimmer of tears in his eyes. “That you came home and found me.”

Eddie’s bottom lip was quivering as he nodded. “Yeah,” he gasped out. He could feel the sobs beginning to bubble up inside of him and he wasn’t sure if he could keep them in any longer. He didn’t want to cry in front of Richie, didn’t want Richie to know how truly upset and hurt he was, but his only other option was to run from the room. All at once, Eddie’s chest was heaving, because that image of Richie clinging to life and bleeding in their hallway was flashing across his mind. The huge puddle of blood that Bill had no doubt scrubbed the shit out of to make sure it didn’t stain their floor.

“Hey,” Richie murmured. His hand turned over in Eddie’s grasp, and he was suddenly holding Eddie’s fingers inside of his.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to hug and kiss Richie, to push away the stray curls of hair clinging to his forehead from his sweaty skin, but this would have to do. Richie holding his fingers would have to be enough.

“I’m okay,” Richie said, and that made Eddie cry harder.

Richie was the one in the hospital! He was the one that needed to be reassured, but here he was, telling Eddie that he was fine. Just like it always was, because Eddie was a fucking mess, and Richie was his rock. Richie was the one who always made everything better in Eddie’s life, even after he had nearly died and was in the hospital with a head injury. Eddie wasn’t even strong enough to return the favor and be a rock for Richie right now.

Eddie could feel Bill’s hand tightening on his shoulder, and that somehow made it even worse. Why did it always seem like he was the one falling apart under the stress of the situation, and why were they always picking him up after? Eddie hung his head in embarrassment as more sobs wracked his body.

“I’m okay,” Richie said again, although he didn’t sound like he entirely believed his own words. “Right, doc?”

“Yes,” the doctor said, sounding ridiculously sure about it. At least someone was. “You’re doing extremely well, Richie. You had a fractured skull and some brain swelling when they brought you in, but you’re well on your way to recovering. We’ll still need to keep you here for a while for observation, but all things considered, you’re extremely lucky that your injuries aren’t worse than they are.”

“Lucky,” Richie repeated, like he didn’t believe that either, and why should he?

He’d had his skull bashed in and had nearly died while he waited for Eddie to come home! It scared Eddie to death to think about what would have happened if he had arrived home any later. If he would have come home to find Richie dead in their hallway. He supposed that Richie was fortunate that he survived and that his injuries weren’t as severe as they could have been, but Eddie still wouldn’t consider him to be ‘lucky’.

Richie was staring up at Eddie again, almost like Eddie was his lifeline in all of this, and Eddie loved him for it. Loved him for seeming to find at least some sort of comfort in Eddie, even if he couldn’t quite remember everything that they had shared together. Even if Eddie couldn’t hold himself together long enough to keep from crying.

“Did…Do they know who did it?” Richie asked and for the very first time, he looked scared. “Did they catch them?”

Eddie shook his head, pressing his lips together to try and keep in the sobs that were still on the verge of spilling out of him. “No,” Eddie whispered, “but they’re looking. A detective came and talked to me and…they’re going to find whoever did this.”

Eddie tried his best to sound positive although he felt anything but. The police didn’t have the first clue as to who had done this, and Eddie had done fuck all to help with the investigation. Without Richie’s memory of what exactly had happened, Eddie doubted whether they would ever catch the perpetrators. But Richie didn’t need to know that.

“They’re not…” Richie broke off, his eyes darting towards the door again. “They’re not…going to come get me, are they?”

Jesus, Richie sounded utterly terrified, and Eddie couldn’t recall ever seeing him like that. _Ever_. Even when they had been in It’s lair, even when Richie had come out publicly, he had never seemed this scared before. Eddie knew he had been, but Richie had always been good at hiding it. He hardly ever let his emotions get the better of him, always choosing to hide them behind jokes and being an all-around dickhead. But now, Richie’s façade had seemed to crumble, and Eddie wasn’t exactly sure how to handle that.

“No, Rich,” Eddie said, although he doubted his own words. “No one’s coming to get you, okay? You’re safe here.”

The truth of the matter, however, was that they had no idea who had done this. How in the fuck were they supposed to keep Richie safe when they weren’t even sure who they were protecting him _from_? It was like trying to protect themselves from the fucking clown when it could take any goddamn form it wanted, and they had no idea where it could possibly pop up.

Eddie was vaguely reminded of the little boy at the Jade of the Orient who Richie had screamed at out of fear, but who had only turned out to be a fan. A simple, innocent fan who had been excited to see his idol.

“We won’t let anyone in to see you unless you know them and you say it’s okay,” the doctor said. “If anyone comes in that makes you uncomfortable, just let us know, and we’ll make sure they leave, okay?”

Richie nodded slowly, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he was being careful of his movements or if he was doubtful of their reassurances. Perhaps it was a little bit of both.

“You won’t leave, will you?” Richie asked Eddie, his voice sounding so very small.

There were those pesky tears prickling at Eddie’s eyes again, and he once more had to contain the urge to hug and kiss Richie. Eddie wanted nothing more than to cling to him, to feel Richie’s strong and warm arms around him, but holding his hand would have to be enough. Eddie was still afraid of overstepping his bounds, but he deepened the hold he had on Richie’s hand, wrapping his fingers firmly around Richie’s like he would never let go.

“No, Richie,” Eddie said, trying his best to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m going to be here with you until they tell you that you can go home.”

“I’m here too, Rich,” Bill said, laying a hand over the covers on top of Richie’s knee. “The other Losers are coming too, and we’re not going to leave you until you’re better, okay?”

Richie gave one small nod, but he still looked terrified beyond belief. His eyes kept going to the doorway, as if he was expecting whoever had done this to him to show up and finish the job.

“Am…am I going to remember who did this to me?” Richie asked the doctor, and it was like he realized that he was the only person who held that information. That information that might be lost forever, locked up somewhere in the depths of Richie’s mind.

“We’re not sure,” Doctor Reddy told him. “In many cases, memories of an accident or attack like this don’t return, which is usually a good thing, considering how traumatizing it can be. On the other hand, in very rare cases, the victim does sometimes remember, or at least get little flashes of what happened.”

Richie frowned and he looked like he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Knowing Richie, he probably desperately wanted to bring whoever had done this to justice, but at the same time, he seemed absolutely terrified of what would happen if he did remember.

Eddie hated seeing Richie like this, and he wished that there was something he could do to make everything better for his husband. Richie was always so strong and pretended to be so sure of himself, even when he was anything but. This terrified Eddie, because the uncertain person in front of him wasn’t his Richie, and Eddie just wanted that person back. If that person even still existed anymore.

But then all at once, Eddie felt like absolute shit, because how dare he think those things when his husband had just been on the brink of death? How dare he wish for Richie to suddenly be okay when he had been hurt and traumatized beyond belief?

Why was Eddie such a shitty husband?

“Why are you so sad, Spagheds?” Richie asked him then, and that managed to make Eddie feel even worse.

Eddie had to use every last ounce of his energy and will power to keep from bursting into tears then and there. He was the worst husband on the face of the earth, and here was Richie, asking him what was wrong. Richie, who had always put Eddie first. Richie, who always thought about his husband before he thought about himself. Richie, who had almost died still seemed more concerned about Eddie than he did about himself.

Richie had also called him ‘Spagheds’, which was a nickname that he used more and more once they had gotten married. It was like Richie was getting little flashes of their relationship together, but the truth of the situation was still eluding him.

“I’m just worried about you,” Eddie managed to choke out. A few sobs managed to escape him before he added, “I want you be okay.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Richie whispered. “I’ll be fine.” He was staring at the ceiling again, like he couldn’t quite meet Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie knew why. Knew that Richie didn’t believe one single word he had just said to Eddie. He wasn’t ‘fine’, and they both knew that. Richie had lied to Eddie like he hadn’t done since before they had admitted their feelings to each other on the cliff above the quarry back in Derry.

Not that Eddie could blame him, of course. Richie was only trying to keep Eddie from worrying, but it had been a year and a half since they had done that with each other. Once they had confessed their love for one another, they had promised that they would never lie about their feelings again, because that had only cost them precious time that they could have spent together.

So they were back to hiding and lying about their feelings. How did they even end up here again? Just four days ago, Eddie had felt so incredibly close to Richie, it didn’t even feel like they were two separate people anymore. It was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Now they were only a few feet apart, but they may as well have been on opposite ends of the country.

_To be continued…_


	6. A Thousand Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I thought we needed a little bit of fluff (and sex) between our boys to break up the seriousness of this story, so I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please recheck the tags before continuing on, but warnings for slightly rough (but completely consensual!) wall sex.

“I’m afraid to go to sleep,” Richie told Eddie later that night.

It was nearing midnight, and the doctor had suggested that Richie try and get some sleep, but Richie was adamantly opposed to the idea. He was obviously tired, because he kept yawning and rubbing at his eyes. His eyelids eventually started drooping too, but then he would force himself awake every time he started to doze. He would sit up a little bit straighter in his bed and open his eyes wide like Eddie could vaguely remember his father doing when he drifted off in front of the television.

The doctor had even tried to get Eddie to leave so that Richie could relax, but Richie was against that idea even more. Every time the doctor so much as suggested it, Richie would be on the edge of a panic attack, begging Eddie not to leave, because he didn’t want to be left alone. He didn’t want to be asleep, and defenseless, and alone if his attacker came back.

“I apparently couldn’t even defend myself when I _was_ awake,” Richie muttered miserably, staring down at his lap. “They’ll definitely kill me if I go to sleep.”

“Nobody’s going to kill you, Rich,” Eddie said firmly. He so desperately wanted to brush his hand against Richie’s forehead, to run his fingers through the strands of hair peeking out from underneath his bandages, but he stopped himself. “You’re safe here.”

Richie frowned deeply, and it looked like he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. In the end, however, it seemed like he calmed down with Eddie’s reassurances.

Doctor Reddy finally relented and allowed Eddie to stay put, although it was on the provision that Richie get some sleep. That, however, proved much easier said than done.

“What if I close my eyes,” Richie said, staring at Eddie wide-eyed when they were alone, “and everything’s different again when I wake up? What if I forget even more while I’m asleep?”

Eddie sat down in a chair at the edge of Richie’s bed, taking Richie’s hand in his own. Richie returned the gesture like he didn’t want to let go, squeezing Eddie’s hand ridiculously hard as if he seemed to think that Eddie might get up and leave.

“That won’t happen,” Eddie told him calmly. “The doctor said your memory’s going to continue to improve now. You’re only going to get better.”

“What if _they_ come and get me when I’m asleep?” Richie asked next, his eyes darting to the door like they did every time this subject was brought up. “I told you, if I couldn’t defend myself when I was awake-“

“I won’t let anyone in here,” Eddie interrupted him, smiling. “And I can be pretty fucking brutal when I have to be, so you don’t need to worry. All I need is a sharp object.”

Richie’s eyes seemed to widen and his mouth opened a bit. He frowned then, staring at Eddie for a long time. Eddie didn’t say anything and didn’t urge Richie on, because it felt like something, some buried memory might have been coming through in that moment. Richie closed his eyes and scrunched up his face, almost looking like he was in pain. When Richie opened his eyes again, recognition flashed there, and it was so wonderful to see that expression on Richie’s features.

All at once, Richie brought up his hand towards Eddie’s cheek, the one that was still clutched around Eddie’s own. Richie lightly brushed the knuckles of his fingers across the scar on Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie’s heart fluttered at the touch. It was the most tender thing Richie had done since he’d woken up, and it gave Eddie just a little bit of hope that Richie’s feelings for him were still in there somewhere. It took everything Eddie had to not close his eyes and lean into the touch he so longed for.

“That’s where you got this,” Richie said, as the backs of his fingers continued to graze across Eddie’s scar. He let their hands drop back down to the mattress a moment later before he said, “Bowers was in your room at the inn and he stabbed you. And you pulled that knife out of your own face and showed him who the fucking boss was.”

Eddie’s eyes prickled with unshed tears all of a sudden, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. “Yeah,” Eddie whispered. He let out a soft breath and brought his free hand up, pressing Richie’s hand in between both of his. “See, you’re already remembering things.”

It only vaguely occurred to Eddie that he still had both his and Richie’s wedding rings on his left hand. He couldn’t bear to remove them now and he only hoped that Richie wouldn’t notice. As it was, they both seemed too caught up in the fact that Richie was actually recalling new information. If Richie was already remembering stupid things like Eddie’s confrontation with Bowers, then maybe it wouldn’t be very long until he remembered that his relationship with Eddie went way beyond that of best friends. Maybe.

“Do you remember who else I fucking stabbed the shit out of?” Eddie asked hopefully, wondering if Richie was beginning to remember their last fight with Pennywise too.

Richie frowned in thought, staring down at his and Eddie’s hands joined together. He shook his head a moment later and said, “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie told him, rubbing the back of Richie’s hand gently. “But rest assured that if anyone tries anything, I can hand their fucking ass to them, because I’m braver than I think.”

Eddie had hoped that repeating Richie’s own words might help to awaken something in Richie’s memory too, but Richie only smiled at Eddie reassurances. Richie then let his head rest back against his pillow, that permanently confused and scared expression on his face seeming to soften. His eyelids drooped again, and this time, he did nothing to stop it. But then he asked, “You’ll still be here when I wake up, right?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie promised, giving Richie’s hand a squeeze. “Unless I need to take a piss, but I’ll come right back if I do.”

“Okay,” Richie mumbled, sleep clearly grabbing hold of him now. “Yeah, don’t piss in here, ‘cause I’m not cleaning up after your ass.”

This made Eddie smile again, knowing that Richie still hadn’t forgotten the way they teased and annoyed each other. Hadn’t forgotten the entire basis of their relationship.

Richie still kept his eyes pinned on Eddie, holding his gaze until they closed completely. Eddie stayed still until Richie’s breathing grew deep and even, signifying that he had finally drifted off. Eddie leaned over and pulled Richie’s glasses off his face, quietly laying them on the bedside table. He then fished his cell phone out of his pocket, still keeping his right hand inside Richie’s own.

Scrolling through his pictures, Eddie stopped when he got to their wedding photos. Because Bill had made him nostalgic for that day, and Eddie was a glutton for punishment. Eddie finally stopped when he got to the picture of himself and Richie on the beach afterwards, the one that they both decided was their favorite, and which now hung in their hallway at home.

~~~~~~~~~~

_Richie knew their wedding reception was supposed to be a party for their guests as much as for themselves, but he couldn’t quite keep his hands off his husband. Even with their guests not far away, helping themselves to the buffet, Richie kept giving his husband kisses like he wouldn’t have enough time to do so later._

_Richie grinned as he pressed his hips into Eddie’s, Eddie leaning back into railing of the deck that looked out over the ocean. It was the same spot where Richie had talked to Bill just fifteen hours previously, voicing his concerns, and now he was actually kissing his husband there._

_His_ husband.

_Eddie tightened his hands in the front of Richie’s blue and yellow pineapple button-down shirt that Eddie had finally relented and let him wear. Since it had been a beach wedding, they had both opted for ‘dressy but casual’ as the dress code. Eddie was wearing a pair of khaki pants with a white button-down collared shirt. He had his sleeves rolled up to just above his elbows, and if that didn’t make Richie go weak in his knees when he first saw him just before the ceremony. He loved when Eddie wore his shirts like that, because Eddie’s forearms really fucking turned him for some reason._

_Richie was wearing matching khaki pants, and Eddie had tried as hard as he could to at least get Richie to wear a solid-colored button-down shirt. Richie insisted that he needed to wear one of his trademark Hawaiian shirts, because it was a beach wedding, and it was perfect. Besides, it was Richie’s aesthetic by now, and everyone would be expecting it._

_He and Eddie had argued the point into the fucking ground until Richie said that he was going to show up in the nude if he couldn’t wear a Hawaiian shirt. The expression on Eddie’s face at that idea was almost comical, and Eddie had finally given in._

_‘All right, fine!’ Eddie had yelled, burying his face in his hands. ‘Wear the ugliest fucking shirt you can find! I don’t care, but for the love of god, please don’t come naked!’_

_‘Like you’d actually complain about that,’ Richie shot back, and if looks could kill, Eddie’s would have struck him down._

_Richie had taken Eddie’s challenge seriously and had scoured the internet for the perfect shirt for his wedding. He finally settled on the one with pineapples, because it was his favorite fruit and to tie in with the beach theme. Richie thought it was perfect. Eddie, on the other hand, said that he hadn’t meant for Richie to take his challenge to heart, but he had let Richie wear the ‘horrendous abomination’ anyway. In the end, Eddie said that once he saw how happy one little dumb ugly shirt had made Richie, it had been worth it._

_“We’re in public,” Eddie muttered in between kisses, not bothering to try and push Richie away. “We have a whole hotel room upstairs waiting for us if that’s what you’re interested in.”_

_“We can’t skip out on own reception yet,” Richie argued, kissing along Eddie’s jaw now. “People are still eating, and we didn’t dance yet, or cut the cake. Besides, everyone here knows how fucking head over heels I am for you by now, so why try to hide it?”_

_Eddie giggled, tilting his head away to give Richie better access. “Jesus,” Eddie gasped, just as Richie began kissing at Eddie’s neck. “We’re not even going to make it upstairs at this rate.”_

_“All right, all right,” Beverly said from behind Richie, seeming to sense Eddie’s trepidation. “Get a room, you two.”_

_“We have one,” Richie said, finally breaking from his kisses. He turned around to face Bev, but he still kept his arms around Eddie’s waist. When Richie was situated behind Eddie, he leaned against the railing, allowing Eddie to rest his back against Richie’s chest. “But you’d kill us if we left now. So here we are.”_

_Eddie sighed, leaning his head back against Richie’s shoulder, tucking his head into the crook of Richie’s neck. Eddie let his hands come to rest over top of Richie’s, clasping them tightly where they were wrapped around his waist. Beverly then held up her camera, aiming it at them. “This is perfect,” she said. “The setting sun and the ocean behind you.”_

_Richie put on his best shit-eating grin, leaning his cheek against Eddie’s hair as Beverly snapped the picture._

_Even after she had disappeared back into the crowd, Richie and Eddie still didn’t move from their position. Eddie kept leaning back against Richie’s chest, his head pressed into the crook of Richie’s neck and shoulder. Richie turned his left hand in Eddie’s grasp, lacing their fingers together as he stared at the platinum and diamond wedding bands on their fingers, sparkling in the setting sun._

_Richie didn’t think he’d ever been happier._

_“Maybe we should get something to eat,” Eddie said then, twisting around in Richie’s arms to glance up at him. “We’re going to need our strength for tonight.” He gently pulled out of Richie’s hold, throwing a wink back over his shoulder as he made his way across the deck to the buffet table._

_Richie followed, his shit-eating grin once again appearing across his lips._

~~~~~~~~~~

_When dinner had been cleared away and everyone had cups of coffee and tea set in front of them, Beverly made her way back up to the buffet table. She cleared her throat and waited until the conversations died down, and everyone was giving her their undivided attention._

_“All right,” she said loudly, so that everyone could hear her. “I just want to put it out there that I was the one who picked out Richie and Eddie’s wedding song, and they both fought me tooth and nail on it. In the end though, they both gave in, because as our group of childhood friends can attest to, there’s absolutely no denying that these two idiots have loved each other for what feels like a thousand years. And I know they’ll love each other for a thousand more.”_

_As the opening chords of ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perri began to play, a gentle applause rippled through the crowd. Richie stood up from his chair and reached his hand out for Eddie’s. When Eddie took it, Richie led him into the center of the deck, which had been left free of tables and chairs as a makeshift dance floor._

_Richie turned around and wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling him close. Eddie went, letting out a soft breath as he rested his head against Richie’s chest. Eddie snaked his arms around Richie’s chest, hugging his close. They weren’t so much as dancing as they were holding each other and swaying to the music, but they had never adhered to tradition to begin with, so they certainly weren’t going to start now._

_Leaning his head down, Richie placed a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head, which caused him to look up into Richie’s eyes. Eddie’s brown eyes were large, and round, and shimmering with unshed tears which sparkled in the last rays of sunlight hitting them over the horizon._

_“’I have loved you for a thousand years,’” Richie purposely sang off-key when it hit that part in the song. “’I’ll love you for a thousand more.’”_

_That certainly didn’t help Eddie’s situation, because a few tears managed to escape his eyes at Richie’s words. Eddie, however, was grinning, and Richie didn’t think he had ever seen a smile that large and that happy on his husband’s lips before. Ever._

_His_ husband.

_Eddie pushed himself up on tiptoes so that he could kiss Richie tenderly, letting his lips play across Richie’s own. Richie tasted the salt from Eddie’s tears, licking them from his lips when they pulled apart. Richie kissed the tip of Eddie’s nose, causing Eddie to smile again. A moment later, he tucked his head back underneath Richie’s chin, squeezing him tightly._

_“I love you so much, Rich,” Eddie whispered._

_Richie knew that he would never forget the way Eddie looked up at him, the sun sparkling in his eyes. He could never forget the way Eddie felt in his arms, and just the simple fact that Eddie was his husband. Even if he did indeed get lucky enough to love Eddie for a thousand years._

~~~~~~~~~~

_When their reception had petered out to a few last straggling guests, Richie and Eddie had taken their chance and slipped away from them. They rode the elevator up to the third floor, which was where their rooms were. The elevator seemed to take forever, and it was everything Richie could do to not push Eddie up against the wall and start kissing him then and there._

_“My room or yours?” Richie asked, then giggled, because he couldn’t believe that was something he was asking on his wedding night._

_Eddie rolled his eyes, clearly aware of what Richie was thinking. Then he said, “Yours. It’s closer.”_

_Richie was still grinning as they stepped off the elevator, Eddie grasping his hand tightly and leading him down the hell. Richie fumbled for his key card in his pocket, quickly slipping it into the slot just above the door handle._

_As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Eddie turned and pushed himself up on his tiptoes to start pressing kisses to the underside of Richie’s jaw. Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and gently started walking, pushing Eddie farther into the room and closer to the bed._

_However, they didn’t even get that far. Eddie grabbed the collar of Richie’s shirt and stepped back against the wall, pulling Richie against him. Lowering his arms and wrapping them around Richie’s waist instead, Eddie thrust his hips forward, drawing a groan from Richie._

_“The bed’s over there,” Richie said around a smile. He tilted his head towards the center of the room, but then he dipped in to begin laying kisses along Eddie’s neck._

_“Fuck the bed,” Eddie replied, letting his head rest against the wall as Richie continued to trail kisses up towards his jaw._

_“I had no clue you were so fucking kinky, Kaspbrak,” Richie said, sucking lightly on Eddie’s ear._

_“Shut up and kiss me,” Eddie said before turning his head to meet Richie’s lips. A moment later, Eddie brought his knee up and let his leg wrap around Richie’s thigh._

_Richie reached down then, grabbing the underside of Eddie’s thigh and hoisting it up farther. He then repeated the process on Eddie’s left leg until Eddie had both of his legs securely wrapped around Richie’s waist. Eddie let his back rest fully against the wall as he reached up and began opening the buttons of Richie’s shirt._

_“Holy shit,” Richie said, grinding his hips forward against Eddie’s. He pulled open the belt buckle around Eddie’s waist, and then worked on getting his button open and zipper down._

_When Eddie got Richie’s shirt mostly unbuttoned, he started kissing along Richie’s collarbone, gently sucking on the skin as he went. “Did you bring lube?” Eddie asked breathlessly, lifting his head to press a deep kiss on Richie’s lips._

_“Mm,” Richie mumbled as Eddie’s tongue worked its way into his mouth. Richie pulled away slightly to catch his breath then and said, “It’s my wedding night. Of course I fucking brought lube.”_

_“You’re not so good at planning ahead sometimes,” Eddie said, finishing opening the last of Richie’s buttons before he pulled his belt open. “It suddenly occurred to me that maybe we should have gone to my room instead.”_

_“_ My wedding night _,” Richie repeated around a scoff. “I’m a dumbass, but I’m not that much of a dumbass.”_

_Eddie had succeeded in getting Richie’s pants open, so he started to push Richie’s shirt off his shoulders next. “Are you sure?”_

_Richie shrugged out of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor behind him. “Fuck off.”_

_“How about we just fuck?”_

_“I’m down for that.”_

_Eddie released the hold he had around Richie’s waist with his legs. Richie gently cupped Eddie’s ass until Eddie had settled his feet back down on the floor. Eddie quickly pulled off his own shirt, letting it join Richie’s on the carpet._

_Richie licked his lips as he stumbled backwards, hurrying across the room to dig his lube out of his duffle bag. When he turned back to Eddie, he was completely naked, leaning back against the wall and staring at Richie from underneath his eyelashes. His cock was already hard, stretching up towards his stomach. Richie could just make out the drop of precum on the tip, glistening in the moonlight streaming in through the window._

_Richie’s breath caught in his throat and the sight went straight to his own cock, because Jesus. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. His perfect little Eds, his chiseled pecs and washboard abs standing out against his skin as he waited for Richie to fuck him._

_This forced a strangled moan from Richie’s throat. “You might want to warn a guy next time you decide to take your pants off,” he muttered as he quickly divested himself of his own pants._

_“It’s a little hard to fuck with your pants on,” Eddie said around a snicker._

_“But they make crotchless pants.”_

_Eddie let one of his hands drift down his hip and towards his cock. He didn’t touch it, but he kept staring at Richie like that. Good lord, this man was going to be the death of him. “Are you saying you wouldn’t rather have me completely naked?” Eddie asked enticingly._

_Richie let out a strangled moan, rejoining Eddie at the wall. He placed his hands against the wallpaper on either side of Eddie’s head, the tube of lube still secured in one. “I just asked for a little warning, that’s all,” Richie said as he leaned down to capture Eddie’s lips in a kiss._

_“All right,” Eddie agreed, nibbling at Richie’s bottom lip. “Richie, I’m naked and ready for you to fuck me.”_

_“_ Fuck _.”_

_“That’s what I said,” Eddie murmured, thrusting his cock forward and letting it rub up against Richie’s._

_Richie released the wall, taking a moment to squirt some lube on his fingers as he looked at Eddie hungrily. “Against the wall?” Richie asked._

_“If you think you’re up for it,” Eddie said, his eyes glinting mischievously in the moonlight._

_“If that’s a challenge, I accept,” Richie said, reaching down with his clean hand to pull Eddie’s leg up over his hip again. “Although if I wake up feeling like I’m dying because of it, I’m blaming you.”_

_“Mm,” Eddie hummed thoughtfully as Richie reached between them and started pressing his fingers against Eddie’s hole. “Maybe not then, because I wouldn’t want my husband out of commission on our honeymoon.”_

_“Let’s try it,” Richie said, letting his index finger slide into Eddie. “You seriously can’t put an image like that in my head and expect me to say no – you throwing your head back while I pound you into the wall.”_

_Eddie groaned, and Richie wasn’t quite sure if it was because of his words or his movements. Maybe it was a little bit of both._

_“Oh god,” Eddie breathed, already pressing his head back against the wallpaper. “Please, Richie. Fucking pound me into the wall.”_

_“_ Jesus _,” Richie groaned. It certainly wasn’t the first time Eddie had requested such things, but Richie didn’t quite think he’d ever get used to his prim and proper little Eds being so open to things during sex. Not that Richie had a problem with it, because he was more than eager to try out new things with Eddie. Still, Richie stopped the movements of his finger inside Eddie. “You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much, right?”_

_As enthusiastic as Eddie sometimes appeared, Richie still liked to double check and make sure that Eddie knew he could tell Richie to stop at any time. Eddie had been so used to submitting to his mother and Myra, and Richie always like to reassure Eddie that he didn’t have to do that anymore. Richie wasn’t like that, and he would never want Eddie to do something he didn’t want to do. Would never make Eddie do something he wasn’t ready for._

_“Yeah,” Eddie said, nodding sharply. “Just…don’t stop.” He pressed his teeth over his bottom lip as he thrust his hips forward, urging Richie’s finger farther inside._

_“Okay,” Richie replied, adding a second finger to Eddie’s hole._

_Almost immediately, Eddie began squirming around on Richie’s fingers, a sign that Eddie was already growing a bit frantic. Richie pushed his fingers in deeper as a reward, stretching them apart as he went. This caused Eddie to whine as he dug his fingers into Richie’s shoulders, tilting his head back even farther._

_“Good?” Richie asked, raining kisses along Eddie’s neck._

_“So good, Richie,” Eddie murmured, thrusting his hips forwards into Richie’s fingers once more._

_Richie continued to work his fingers in and out of Eddie, waiting until Eddie was a quivering, whimpering mess before adding a third._

_“Oh my god, I can’t,” Eddie muttered once Richie’s fingers were buried deep inside him. He had his eyes squeezed shut, his head still pressed back into the wall._

_“Do you want to stop?” Richie asked, stilling his fingers at Eddie’s words._

_“Fuck, no,” Eddie whined around a heavy breath. “Don’t fucking stop.” He pressed down onto Richie’s fingers even more to prove his point. “I meant I can’t take this fucking_ teasing _anymore.” Eddie’s eyes finally opened and he stared at Richie, his mouth hanging open with each breath in and out, his bottom lip kiss-swollen. “I want you to fuck me, Richie.”_

_Richie grinned, only working his fingers in and out of Eddie in response. “Yeah?”_

_“Oh god, yeah,” Eddie pleaded. “Want your cock. So bad.”_

_Richie spread his fingers wide inside of Eddie, earning another whine from the other man, and that did it. As much as he loved teasing Eddie, sometimes his reactions were simply too much for Richie to resist. Especially when Eddie was so openly asking for it._

_Withdrawing his fingers, Richie wasted no time in squirting out more lube into his palm, quickly wrapping his fingers around his cock. Eddie had cried out at the loss of Richie’s fingers, and he was still staring at Richie, wide-eyed and pleading._

_“Don’t worry. You’re getting my cock, baby,” Richie said, letting out a heavy breath as he stroked his cock. He let the bottle of lube drop to the floor with their discarded clothes before he grabbed Eddie’s thighs, gently lifting his feet off the floor once again._

_Eddie leaned back fully against the wall again, bringing his legs up to wrap them around Richie’s waist. He rested his hands on Richie’s shoulders, bracing himself as Richie entered him._

_Pressing just the tip of his cock into Eddie, Richie groaned loudly, because he hadn’t quite been aware of how hard he had been. Resting his forehead against the wall behind Eddie, Richie slowly continued to bury himself inside, unable to stop the almost incessant moaning that was escaping his lips._

_“All right there?” Eddie asked, tightening both his arms and legs around Richie._

_“God, fuck. More than all right,” Richie whispered._

_He had just bottomed out, Eddie’s ass securely resting against Richie’s hips. Eddie was so hot and tight around him, and Richie stilled, trying to gather himself before he completely blew his load. Richie bit at his bottom lip, willing himself not to cum just yet before he’d had a chance to give Eddie what he wanted._

_Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie, one under his ass and one around his waist, holding Eddie tightly to him. Eddie clung to him, and a moment later, he could feel Eddie’s fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. Richie smiled, because he loved when Eddie touched him there, gently threading his fingers through Richie’s hair. He often did it when they had sex or when they were just cuddling, and it always managed to comfort Richie._

_Holding Eddie there, feeling Eddie around him in every sense of the word was almost overwhelming for him. He remembered being thirteen years old and wishing so desperately for Eddie it almost hurt, and he finally had him in his arms, waiting to be fucked. Eddie was the man of his dreams, everything Richie had ever wanted, and he had him. Richie had Eddie and they were married. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together, and this thought drew a sob from Richie._

_“Hey,” Eddie said, turning his head and nuzzling Richie’s cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?”_

_“Mm,” Richie hummed in response. It was all he could muster at first, because he was afraid he was going to start openly crying if he so much as opened his mouth. Richie took a few deep breaths and swallowed before he said, “Yeah. I am. I just…I can’t believe we’re married.”_

_Eddie hummed in response, a sound that vibrated through his chest. Richie didn’t think he’d ever tire of holding Eddie like this, of feeling him alive, and warm, and safe in his arms._

_“I know,” Eddie replied, continuing to run his fingers through Richie’s locks. “I love you, Richie.”_

_Richie turned his head, placing a soft a kiss against Eddie’s lips. “I love you.”_

_“But…are we gonna fuck or what?” Eddie asked. “Or are you going to stand there with your dick up my ass all night?”_

_“God, you’re so_ demanding _,” Richie complained around a pout. “I’m having a moment here in case you couldn’t tell.”_

_“Hey, if you don’t want to fuck me, that’s fine,” Eddie said, shrugging. “I just thought with it being our wedding night and all…” He trailed off, looking at Richie through his eyelashes again, because he knew that always got Richie’s attention._

_“I always want to fuck you,” Richie said, suddenly pulling out of Eddie before thrusting back in._

_This drew a groan from Eddie, and he threw his head back against the wall. Richie captured Eddie’s lips in a kiss before pulling back out again and pounding Eddie back against the wall once more. They were both probably going to be in pain from this in the morning, but for right now, it was hottest thing Richie had ever seen in his life. Seeing Eddie throwing his head back against the wall and taking what Richie gave him was almost enough to push Richie over the edge then and there._

_Richie quickly settled into a firm and steady rhythm, Eddie twisting his hips forward in an attempt to meet Richie on each and every thrust. Eddie’s heels were now digging into Richie’s tailbone, urging him deeper and harder. When Richie managed to hit Eddie’s prostate, Eddie groaned and leaned forward, pressing his head into Richie’s shoulder. He dug his fingernails into Richie’s back and grunted out his name._

_It was a little bit heavier with Eddie leaning more fully against him, but Richie continued to pound into Eddie. Richie brought one of his arms up to wrap it around Eddie’s shoulders, bracing him as he increased his pace. He felt Eddie quivering with need, a sign that Eddie was getting impossibly close. Richie spread his own legs farther, steadying himself as he tried to hit Eddie’s prostate with every thrust in._

_“_ Richie _,” Eddie whimpered out against his shoulder, squeezing his arms ridiculously tightly around Richie’s chest._

_Richie, however, didn’t complain. He was the one thing that Eddie was focused on, the only thing that possibly existed for Eddie in that moment, and he loved the feeling of Eddie clinging to him. He loved the thought that he alone was supporting Eddie, and Eddie trusted him enough to hold him and to make love to him like this._

_“Baby,” Richie whispered, a name that he only ever used while they were having sex. There was just something about the way Eddie would come undone and cling to him like he was the only other person on the face of the earth; it always managed to draw that word from Richie’s lips._

_When Richie picked up his pace even more, now relentlessly pounding Eddie back against the wall, Eddie’s breathing had turned loud and hard. Richie could feel his breath warm on his skin as Eddie began moaning again._

_“Fuck, Rich,” Eddie bit out, almost sounding on the verge of sobbing himself. Richie had been about to stop and check in with Eddie, but then Eddie immediately assuaged his fears. “So fucking good. Oh my god, please don’t stop.”_

_“Yeah?” Richie asked, his own breath heaving in and out as he continued to thrust into Eddie. “Is that good, baby?”_

_Eddie let out a strangled moan in response and Richie felt him shudder. A moment later, Eddie clenched tightly around him, Eddie’s warm release splashing out against their stomachs. Eddie had fucking cum untouched (except for whatever friction he was getting from rubbing up against Richie’s stomach, which probably wasn’t much). Eddie had cum simply from Richie’s thrusts and words alone, and that thought almost made him crazy._

_Richie used every last ounce of energy he had left to pick up his pace just a little bit more, driving his cock hard and deep into Eddie. A warm, tingling pleasure had pooled in his stomach, and Richie groaned as it grew, still feeling Eddie riding out the rest of his release against him. Eddie clenched down tightly around Richie one last time, and that was all he needed._

_“_ Eds _,” Richie whimpered out as he came, spilling his seed deep inside of Eddie. “Oh fuck,” he muttered as his cock pulsed, lazily thrusting a last few times into Eddie. Richie collapsed forward against the wall, his sweaty forehead pressing into the wallpaper behind Eddie._

_Eddie still clung to him, unmoving and quiet except for the breaths he let out as he came down from his orgasm._

_“Eds?” Richie asked a moment later when Eddie hadn’t said anything. “Are you okay?”_

_“Mhm,” Eddie murmured, not lifting his head from Richie’s shoulder. He seemed to be at a loss for words, but he momentarily tightened his grip around Richie in response._

_“Are you sure, baby?” Richie asked, concern flooding him when it seemed like Eddie might be falling asleep in his arms._

_“’M sure,” Eddie whispered, sounding on the verge of sleep. “It was intense as shit, but I’m good.”_

_“Okay,” Richie said, “but let’s get you to bed and I’ll get you something.”_

_Richie gritted his teeth as he pulled away from the wall, and it was only then that he realized how exhausted he felt himself. Without the support of wall and after his exertions, Eddie now felt twice as heavy against him. Richie’s legs shook slightly as he hugged Eddie to him and made his way towards the bed._

_A moment later, Richie felt his knees brush against the edge of the mattress. He leaned forward with a heavy breath, gently laying Eddie down on the covers. Eddie immediately released him, letting his arms and legs spread out around him. He stared at Richie and smiled, although he still looked like he might be on the verge of falling asleep._

_“Do you want a blanket?” Richie asked._

_Eddie shook his head and said, “Too fucking hot.”_

_Richie could see the sweat standing out against Eddie’s skin in the moonlight, so he’d almost definitely want a blanket once he cooled down a bit. Richie went to the wardrobe on the other side of the room and grabbed a blue fleece blanket so he wouldn’t have worry about pulling down the bedspread with Eddie already lying on top of it. Then Richie went to the small refrigerator just next to the wardrobe. Grabbing two bottles of water, Richie turned and dropped the contents of his arms on the foot of the bed._

_“Do you want some candy?” Richie asked. “I have those Lifesavers gummies in my bag.”_

_“Mmm,” Eddie replied. “Yeah. That sounds good.” His eyelids started to drift shut again._

_Richie dug the gummies from his bag before joining Eddie on the bed, and holy shit. He hadn’t quite realized just how tired he was, because now that his weight was off his legs entirely, he almost collapsed face first into the mattress._

_“_ Fuck _,” Richie groaned, lying down heavily next to Eddie. He managed to fall down on his side before pushing himself up with his elbow. “I don’t know what you’re expecting for the rest of our honeymoon, but I don’t think I could do that again.”_

_Eddie turned his head and smiled up at Richie. He opened his eyes and said, “I told you that shit was intense.”_

_Reaching for one of the bottles of water, Richie opened it before holding it out for Eddie. Eddie moaned as he turned over onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. He took the water from Richie, taking a few tentative sips as his breathing continued to slow._

_Richie had uncapped his own water and took several long gulps. When he twisted the lid back on the bottle, he tore open the bag of gummies, withdrawing two rings of candy. He held one out for Eddie, who opened his mouth, sucking gently on Richie’s fingers as he took the candy into his mouth. Humming at the sensation, Richie popped the other gummy into his mouth._

_They laid there in silence until they almost finished their water and had eaten about half the bag of candy. When Eddie set down his nearly empty bottle of water on his nightstand, he laid down against his pillow, staring up at Richie._

_“Feel better?” Richie asking, setting his own water and bag of gummies aside._

_“Yeah,” Eddie replied, but then he noticeably shivered. “Cold now.”_

_“I knew you would be,” Richie said around a smile. He reached for the fleece blanket, fluffing it out and pulling it up over them._

_Lying down on his back, Richie immediately lifted his arm, allowing Eddie to crawl into his grasp. Eddie laid his head against Richie’s chest, resting his hand over Richie’s heart. Richie wrapped both his arms tightly around Eddie and kissed the top of his head._

_“I love you,” Eddie whispered sleepily against his skin, his breathing already slowing as he relaxed against Richie._

_“I love you,” Richie replied, pressing his nose into Eddie’s hair. “My husband.”_

_He could feel Eddie smiling against his skin, and Eddie moved his arm until it was wrapped tightly around Richie’s waist instead._

_“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Eddie asked. He lifted a leg up, tucking it in between both of Richie’s. He let his toe brush up and down Richie’s calf._

_“Fucking sleep,” Richie said around a laugh. “I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”_

_“I’m the one that had my ass pounded into the wall.”_

_“Try holding me up while you pound_ me _into the wall next time,” Richie argued. “You’d fucking collapse.”_

_“Is that a challenge?”_

_Richie shrugged against him, but he felt a burst of excitement at the suggestion that Eddie would possibly want to try something like this again. Moreover, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel his cock twitch lazily at the thought of Eddie pounding him into the wall next time._

_“If you want to take it as one,” Richie told him._

_Eddie giggled and said, “Maybe. And we can just lie on the beach tomorrow, if you think you can make it out there, old man.”_

_“You might have to hold me up.”_

_“I think I can do that at least. Wouldn’t want the rest of the Losers to wonder where we are.”_

_Richie hummed sleepily in response. “It’s our honeymoon. They know we’re either having ridiculous amounts of sex, or you got sick of me and killed me already.”_

_“I’m down for more sex.”_

_“_ Jesus _,” Richie cried. “I already pounded you into the wall. What more do you want from me?”_

_“More sex I said.”_

_Richie forced out a fake huff of annoyance. “That’s all you want me for. Is my mind a joke to you?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Fuck off, or I’m never going to fuck you again.”_

_Eddie snorted and then laughed out loud. “Yeah, right. You love fucking me too much.”_

_“I love you.”_

_Hugging his waist tightly, Eddie tilted his head up and pressed a kiss into the underside of Richie’s jaw. “I love you.”_

_Eddie settled his head against Richie’s chest again and a few minutes later, his breathing had softened and evened out. Richie was pretty sure Eddie had drifted off, but Richie laid there for a while longer, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about how lucky he was._

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie was still holding Richie’s hand tightly in one of his as he reached down to his lap to pick up his cell phone again. He was counting on the fact that Richie’s painkillers had sufficiently knocked him out enough that Eddie wouldn’t wake him with a little music. He quickly brought up their wedding song, but kept the volume low, letting it play as he rested his phone on the bed next to Richie.

“Remember this, Rich?” Eddie asked quietly, squeezing Richie’s hand. “It was our wedding song.” Eddie gasped in a quick breath after that, using every ounce of his willpower to keep from bursting into tears again. He closed his eyes against the feeling until it passed.

Even if Richie couldn’t consciously hear the music, Eddie hoped that maybe his brain was still processing it somehow and that it would stir something deep inside his memory.

“We had our wedding on the beach in Santa Monica,” Eddie told him, wanting to inundate Richie with as many memories of that day as he could while Richie was still asleep. “I found that really nice hotel not far from my work and when I showed you, you fell in love with it.” Eddie snorted then before he added, “Although you said you’d marry me back in the fucking sewer if you had to.”

Eddie brought Richie’s hand up to his cheek, pressing the back of it against his skin. He turned his head and kissed the back of Richie’s hand before he said, “It’s going to be okay. I know you haven’t forgotten about us, because Bill said it’s basically impossible.” Eddie forced out a laugh, letting his free hand brush up and down Richie’s forearm, letting the hair there play against his fingers. “You can’t forget about something that’s been a part of you since you were thirteen.”

Closing his eyes, Eddie continued his strokes across Richie’s arm. “Please come back to me.” He took a deep breath in order to quiet the sob that threatened to spill out of him. “I know you will though. You’re going to get better,” Eddie continued on, “and I’m going to be here for you every step of the way until you do.” He pressed another kiss to Richie’s hand before he added, “I know it’s going to be hard, but you don’t need to worry, okay? I’m going to help you, and I’m not going anywhere.” He paused, but when it hit that particular line in the song, Eddie whispered, “’Darling, don’t be afraid. I have loved you for a thousand years. I’ll love you for a thousand more.’”

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: ‘A Thousand Years’ was supposed to be my wedding song once upon a time, but that relationship turned into a dumpster fire. That pretty much ruined the song for me, but I still love it, and I wanted to make it better again, so it gets to be for these two idiots instead. And that’s much better.


	7. Pitch Black

When Richie opened his eyes again, it was strangely dark. He frowned into the darkness, because weren’t hospitals supposed to stay pretty well-lit all night long? Eddie could have turned off the lights in his room so that Richie could sleep better, but even the hallway beyond his door was pitch black. There weren’t even any lights out there for the staff or the other patients who might be wandering the halls at this late hour.

Richie could only tell he was in the hospital because of the faint moonlight streaming in through his window, throwing weird shadows across the room. It highlighted the branches of the tree outside, forming claw-like patterns of light and shadow on the ugly pink and white linoleum floor. Richie could just make out the bedside table, some of the medical equipment beyond that, and the empty chair at his bedside.

The empty chair that Eddie had been in when he had fallen asleep. The one that Eddie said he wouldn’t leave unless he had to go to the bathroom. That was it – Eddie was in the bathroom, and he would be back any second.

Swallowing hard, Richie tried to relax back against his pillows, but he still felt on edge. Why was it _so fucking dark_ and deserted in a hospital? Where was everyone? Shouldn’t there be at least a few staff members walking up and down the hall, running errands and checking on patients?

The hospital’s current atmosphere vaguely reminded Richie of the movie ‘Halloween II’. It had always his favorite film in the franchise, even though he had always known it was stupid given how dark and empty the fucking hospital had been throughout the film. Hospitals just weren’t like that, even in the middle of the night.

But here he was, in a hospital that was apparently just as dark and just as silent. Just as eerily empty, like Richie might be the only person there.

“Eds?” Richie asked, his eyes going to the bathroom in the corner of the room. He sat up in bed, leaning forward to try and see the bathroom door just around the corner. But from his vantage point, he could see that the bathroom door stood open and it was dark in there too.

Had Eddie gone to use the bathroom in the hallway? Richie didn’t see why he would, but maybe Eddie would come back any second now and make a joke about not wanting to use Richie’s same dirty ass bathroom. Actually, Eddie may well be having panic attacks up the ass from having to use hospital bathrooms in the first place. Maybe he was out in the corridor, applying copious amounts of hand sanitizer and trying to calm himself down after the fact.

“Eds?” Richie called again, but only silence met his ears. Richie turned around on his mattress, his head beginning to pound in pain from his movements. He flinched and sucked in a breath, slowly reaching out for the call button hanging over the top corner of his mattress. Richie pressed it and waited.

Richie felt a little bit stupid for calling a nurse just because it was dark, and quiet, and weird, and he had no idea where Eddie was, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. They had told him that if he needed anything at all, that was what the button was there for. Perhaps they would even know where Eddie had gone, because Eddie wouldn’t just up and leave, would he? He had promised he wouldn’t, and Richie didn’t think Eddie would lie to him. Maybe he had just gone to get something to eat or drink. Maybe he had gone out to talk to Bill for a minute. Maybe the other Losers had arrived and he went to greet them, but he would be back soon either way.

Richie waited for what he thought was nearly a minute – surely enough time for a nurse to come and check on him by now – but still the hospital remained dark, and quiet, and unmoving. Pressing the call button again, Richie tried to remain calm and tell himself that he was just imagining things. Everything was fine and someone would be by shortly.

It was just his stupid mind playing tricks on him, which he was desperately trying not to think about. Trying not to think about whoever had come into his home – his and Eddie’s home (he had to keep reminding himself of that fact) and had maybe tried to kill him. At least, that was what Richie assumed. Richie had surprised the burglar, and they didn’t want to leave an eye witness behind, so they had tried to kill him. What if they found out that Richie had survived the attack and was recovering in the hospital? Sure, Richie didn’t remember shit about what had happened, but the perpetrator didn’t know that. Richie might even remember what did happen at a later date, so wouldn’t the person want to take care of Richie once and for all when he had the chance?

“Hello?” Richie called, feeling his heart speeding up in his chest at the thought. “Is…is someone there?”

When still no one answered him, he pushed the blankets aside, but then froze in his spot. He had only been out of bed once since he had woken up, and that had been when a nurse had helped him to the bathroom. He had been very unsteady on his feet, which the doctor had reassured him was normal after the injury he had sustained and the fact that he hadn’t been on his feet in several days. Richie didn’t know if he should attempt to get up on his own or continue to press the fucking useless call button, which nobody was answering!

Richie let his feet hang over the edge of the mattress, staring down at the branches made from moonlight and shadow on the floor. He didn’t quite want to put his feet down there, feeling almost like a stupid little kid again. When he had been about five or six, he had always been worried that if he got up in the middle of the night, the monster under the bed would reach out and grab him. He could remember scampering back and forth to the bathroom, hurrying back to bed and burying himself back underneath the safety of the blankets before the monster came out.

And in a way, it eventually did come for all of them in the form of Pennywise.

But this was a hospital and he was a fucking adult. Nothing was going to reach out and grab him, because It was fucking dead. Unless whoever had broken into his house had come and hunted him down, but Richie tried to push that thought from his mind as he lowered his feet to the floor. He was wearing those dumb socks the hospital had given him, the ones with the tread on the bottom, but he still felt the chill of the linoleum floor cutting through the thin material.

Richie leaned heavily on the mattress as he tried to push himself up. He gritted his teeth and strained against the wobbliness in his legs. They felt like they were full of jelly, and his head started throbbing even more as his blood started rushing through his body. Oh shit, he almost definitely shouldn’t be up on his own, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wouldn’t have to be if someone would just check on him and tell him what was happening already!

“Hello?” Richie called again as he pushed himself away from the bed. His legs were shaking horribly, and he considered collapsing back on the bed and just waiting for someone to come to him. But he felt like he had waited long enough and no one was coming! There was no one here!

He stood rooted to his spot for a long time, willing his legs to support him, or at least stop shaking. It was the strangest sensation. It almost felt like his legs were asleep and would buckle under his weight at any moment. As carefully as he could, Richie shuffled his feet across the floor, the treads on the bottoms of his socks catching slightly on the floor as he went.

He made it to the door where he quickly reached out for the doorjamb. He gripped it tightly in shaking hands, slowly peeking out into the hallway. That was even more bizarre, because it was almost completely pitch black in both directions. He could just make out vague shapes in the darkness, but nothing concrete and he certainly didn’t see any people.

What the fuck was going on?

“Is anyone there?” Richie asked, but his voice was shaking so much, he was pretty sure no one would hear him anyway. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped around the doorway and out into the corridor.

He had no idea where he was even going, but he had to find someone. He desperately wanted to find Eddie, because for reasons he couldn’t explain, Eddie was the only one who made him feel even halfway safe since he had woken up in the hospital. Richie supposed it was because Eddie was just his best friend, and even after years and years apart, things were still comfortable and familiar between them. That was the way Eddie always made him feel, and that was all Richie wanted right now, but he’d settle for any fucking doctor or nurse at this point. Anyone to let him know that he wasn’t alone and that he was safe.

“Please,” Richie said as he continued to amble down the hall, his fingers brushing up against the wall and the railings there as he went. His felt a little bit steadier now, but he still didn’t entirely trust his legs to support him. “Will someone please answer me?” Richie asked into the darkness. “I woke up and…I don’t know where everyone went.”

Richie suddenly felt horribly stupid, standing in the middle of a darkened hospital, calling out like an idiot. Just why was it so dark and where had everyone gone? This couldn’t possibly be a hospital, because things like this didn’t just happen in them!

“I’m here,” came a voice from behind Richie.

“Oh, shit,” Richie gasped, turning around in his spot as quickly as he could. His legs shook as he did so and his head gave an extra hard throb, so he grabbed onto the wall in an attempt to steady himself. At first, he felt a surge of relief course through him at the thought that he wasn’t alone any longer, but then it occurred to him that he was pretty sure he didn’t recognize the voice that had spoken to him.

“Who…who’s there?” Richie asked, his eyes darting around, desperately trying to pick out any kind of shapes in the darkness that was surrounding him.

Was it just him, or was it darker now than when he had first ventured out into the hall? Perhaps, because there weren’t any windows here letting moonlight in. Richie had thought that his eyes would have adjusted to the darkness by now, but that didn’t seem to be happening. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse.

“Who’s there?” Richie demanded again, feeling his free hand drawing up into a fist. When Richie’s questions went unanswered, his brief relief was replaced by terror, ripping through him like a lightning bolt. His legs felt wobbly all over again, his heart began pounding a hole through his chest, and there were pinpricks of sweat breaking out all over his skin.

“God, fucking answer me!” Richie shouted out, about at the end of his rope with this nonsense. Why was someone hiding in the darkness of a hospital just to play games with him? “Who the fuck is there? What’s going on? Where is everyone?”

“It’s just you and me, Tozier.”

Fear continued to surge through him, and Richie was absolutely sure now that he had no idea who was speaking to him. It was a man’s voice, but any recognition ended there. He ran through the doctors and nurses he had met thus far, but he couldn’t pair any of them up with this voice. Meanwhile, if it was a member of the hospital staff, why were they standing in the darkness, speaking cryptically to him?

“Who?” Richie asked. “Fucking tell me who you are.” Richie tried not to let his voice shake, tried not to let on how thoroughly terrified he was, but he was pretty sure he failed miserably.

“No, I don’t think I will,” the disembodied voice replied back. “See, if I did that, then we would have a big problem.”

Was it Richie’s imagination, or did he hear a faint chuckle following those words through the darkness? He wasn’t sure, but then he heard footsteps echoing impossibly loudly in the corridor, in his ears. Richie took a few steps backwards in an attempt to get away from whoever was there, but he knew that in reality, he was doomed. If this person decided to come after him, Richie would be way too weak and unsteady to put up much of a fight or to even try and get away; if he couldn’t even fight off an attacker in his own home when he was in perfect health, what hope did he have now? He had no idea where anything even was in this stupid hospital! He kept hoping that he would eventually be able to make out some signs in the darkness, but he couldn’t see anything at all.

“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” Richie said, clinging to his next viable option. “Just leave me alone. That…that’s all I want. I don’t…I don’t want to be hurt anymore.” Richie could feel tears stinging at his eyes, and he tried with all his might to fight them off. It certainly wouldn’t do any good against this perpetrator if he thought Richie was _crying_. This man would probably just think he was weak and laugh at him.

Even his words sounded stupid to his own ears. Why in god’s name was he fucking begging like a little child? He should tell this asshole to just fuck off and leave him alone. On the other hand, however, wasn’t that most likely what he had done at home? Yes, he could imagine having that sort of reaction, and he had just ended up in the hospital with a head injury.

“Just leave me alone,” Richie pleaded again, despite his best efforts to contrary. He didn’t feel like he could even force out any harsher words at the moment, because he was terrified. He was scared to death to swear and curse in front of this person, afraid of where he might end up as a result. He was even afraid to fucking move, to try and run away, because he thought he’d just fall over, and then he would be a sitting duck.

“Oh no,” the man finally answered him again, and he was closer this time, even though Richie still couldn’t see him. “You weren’t supposed to wake up. Ever. So now I just have to put you back to sleep.”

Those words finally got Richie moving. He tried his best to turn around, to start running away, but for all the good it did. Richie was shaking so much, he only succeeded in getting his feet tangled up in each other. The hallway tilted at an awkward angle before his hip and his palm slammed down hard onto the linoleum. His head erupted in pain again, and he let out a whimpered cry before closing his eyes against it. Richie began trying to dig his feet underneath him in an effort to stand up, but the treads on the bottoms of his socks only grabbed and then skidded weakly across the floor.

Oh god, it was happening. He was just like every stupid character in a horror who tried to run away and only succeeded in falling over. Richie could remember screaming at those stupid characters with the other Losers, telling them to get the fuck up, and here he was. Nothing more than fodder for a slasher villain. For Pennywise. For the monster under the bed.

A moment later, Richie could make out a big, burly, black shape in front of him, darker than the rest of the hallway around him, but he still couldn’t make out any details. There was warm, putrid-smelling breath in Richie’s face, and he cringed away from it. Richie let out a whine against it, but that only got him a laugh in response.

“Look at you,” the man said. “Just a whimpering, crying mess lying on the floor like a little baby. You couldn’t stand up to me in your home, and you’re no match for me now. Just lie down and fucking let me put you out of your misery.”

Richie let out a squawk of surprise when he felt something close around his throat. He was being pushed farther back down into the floor, but he wouldn’t let this man just fucking kill him! He wouldn’t!

Richie kicked his legs out, hoping that they would connect with at least some part of this perpetrator. However, he didn’t feel anything on top of him at all; his feet just met with air and he only felt the pair of hands around his throat. He reached up with his hands, grabbing at the man’s arms and digging his fingernails into his skin as hard as he could. The attack on him didn’t cease, and Richie struggled for a breath against the pressure on his throat.

His vision was growing darker, even darker still than the hallway had been. Richie could see tiny pinpricks of pitch black floating into his field of vision, eventually growing to consume him – except for one thing. He could see the bright white of an LA Dodgers logo standing out in the blackness, almost like it was burning itself into his brain before the darkness overtook him completely.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie fell into a fitful sleep at Richie’s bedside that night. It was hard enough trying to sleep in a fucking chair as it was, but the hustle and bustle of the hospital didn’t help in the least. Eddie eventually ended up leaning far forward in his chair, his head cradled awkwardly against Richie’s mattress. His back was going to be killing him in the morning, but he would have to deal with it, because Richie needed him there. For Richie, Eddie would do it.

One of Eddie’s arms was folded under his head, and he was gripping Richie’s hand tightly with the other. If Richie woke up at some point in the night, Eddie wanted him to immediately feel Eddie’s touch, to know that he was right there with him. That he hadn’t left, because Richie didn’t want him to.

Eddie didn’t think he’d been dozing for very long when felt Richie’s hand jerk inside his. Lifting his head up from the mattress and opening his eyes a crack, Eddie looked in Richie’s direction, checking to make sure that he was okay. Richie whimpered then and at first, Eddie thought his pain medication was probably wearing off. But then Richie’s hand was pulled out his entirely, and Eddie sat back in his chair, completely startled awake.

Richie let out an ear-piercing howl, somewhere between a scream and a cry. He began kicking at his mattress, his blankets and feet flailing around in the air as he did so. His hands flew up to his neck next, grabbing for something that wasn’t even there. It almost looked like he was being attacked by some unseen force, and it took Eddie’s sleep-clogged brain a few moments to figure out what in the fuck was happening.

“Rich!” Eddie cried out, immediately springing up off his chair and sitting down on the edge of Richie’s bed instead. He reached out for Richie’s hands, grabbing at Richie’s wrists, but for all the good it did. Richie was still flailing and he tugged his hands out of Eddie’s grasp almost immediately. “Oh, fuck, Rich, wake up!” Eddie said, much louder this time, laying his hands on Richie’s chest.

Screaming again, Richie continued to thrash around, almost knocking Eddie off the bed in the process. He started to turn away from Eddie, apparently trying to get away, and Eddie was almost afraid that he would tumble off the other side of the bed.

“Richie!” Eddie yelled again, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders this time. He didn’t want to scare Richie any more than he already was, but he wasn’t sure how else to rouse him. Eddie gave his shoulders a shake and said, “God, Richie, please! Please wake up! You’re having a nightmare!” Eddie was almost screaming on this last word, and that was what did it.

Jerking one last time, Richie opened his eyes, gasping loudly for air. His eyes were unfocused, however, darting across the room in confusion. He shot his arms out again, trying to push Eddie away, but Eddie kept his hold firm on Richie’s shoulders. His hospital gown was soaked through with sweat, and his hair peeking out from underneath the bandages clung to his forehead in small clumps.

“Richie,” Eddie said, more softly this time. “Richie, please look at me.” Eddie let his hands drift up to Richie’s face next, placing them softly on Richie’s cheeks. “It’s me, okay? It’s Eddie. I’m here.”

Finally looking in his direction, Richie continued to gasp loudly, his eyes wide. Eddie was sure he couldn’t make anything out without his glasses on, but Richie at least recognized his voice, so Eddie kept talking to him.

“You’re safe, okay?” Eddie asked, rubbing his thumbs gently across Richie’s hot and tear-streaked face. “I’m here with you in the hospital and you’re safe. I’ve been here all night, ready to stab anyone’s ass that even attempts to lay a hand on you.”

Richie’s breathing had slowed a bit, but it was still coming harsh and loud. He stared up at Eddie unseeing, but then he gasped out, “ _Eddie_?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie whispered. He lifted one of his hands from Richie’s cheek, using his thumb to wipe at the tears that had formed under his eyes instead. “You were just having a nightmare. I’ve got you, and I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

Against his better judgment, Eddie used his other hand to pick away the sweaty strands of hair that clung to Richie’s forehead. It probably wasn’t something that friends would do for each other, but Eddie was only trying to calm Richie down right now, and he thought that this would help.

Eddie wanted to get a cool washcloth from the bathroom, but he didn’t dare leave Richie alone in this state. Instead, he grabbed a few tissues from the box on Richie’s bedside table, using them to dab at Richie’s sweat and tears.

Richie swallowed several times before he looked away, staring at the opposite side of the room. His closed his eyes momentarily before opening them again, frowning deeply.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie asked, still trying to wipe at Richie’s forehead with the tissues. “That…helps sometimes.”

Richie shook his head, his frown growing even deeper. The corners of his mouth pulled down too, his eyebrows knit together. He threw his hand up, swatting at Eddie like a fly, causing Eddie’s arm to fall away from his head.

“Talk to me, Rich,” Eddie said quietly, wanting to reach out for him again, but holding himself back.

“What’s there to talk about?” Richie asked, finally turning to face Eddie again. The expression on his face, however, was hard and drawn, something Eddie very rarely saw there. “I had a fucking nightmare. It’s not a big deal, and I’m fine.” He looked away again, his cheeks growing red, and Eddie could tell he was embarrassed.

Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but his voice died in his throat. He had been about to tell Richie that he didn’t think he was fine, but in the end, he rethought his words. Finally, he settled on, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You remember how terrified we all were of Pennywise, and that was okay. It’s okay to be afraid. And…I just thought you’d feel better if you talked to me.”

“Well, I won’t, so drop it!” Richie snapped at him, turning over onto his side and away from Eddie fully.

Eddie tried not to feel hurt, but he found himself failing. He and Richie always talked to each other when something was bothering them, and they’d both agreed that their marriage was a lot stronger for it. Even if it was something dumb that was troubling them, they both knew that the other would listen patiently and without judgment. They didn’t have any secrets between them and that was the way Eddie liked it. But then Eddie realized that Richie didn’t remember they were even married; there was a big difference between what one would tell a best friend and what one would tell a spouse.

Staring down at the wadded up ball of tissues in his hands in defeat, Eddie fidgeted with his and Richie’s rings that were still around his fingers.

“Is everything okay?”

When Eddie lifted his gaze, he saw that one of Richie’s nightly nurses, Kurt was standing in the doorway.

“I heard some commotion,” Kurt explained. “I wanted to make sure everything was all right in here.”

Eddie noticed Richie’s shoulder tense up, and Richie mumbled something indiscernible.

“He…he had a nightmare,” Eddie said quickly, wiping at eyes, because he could feel tears springing to life there. “He…he’s fine.”

“Fine,” Richie echoed, although he didn’t sound fine in the least.

“Do you need more painkillers?” Kurt asked, stepping farther into the room. “Or maybe a sedative? If you’re having trouble sleeping-“

“I’m not!” Richie snapped, only glancing at Kurt momentarily. He returned his gaze to the wall, seeming to curl in on himself. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled his knees up towards his chest.

“All right,” Kurt replied, glancing at Eddie uncertainly. “The call button is there if you need anything at all. We’re all right outside.”

Richie made a scoffing sound, and Eddie had to contain the urge to ask what in the hell his problem was. Richie had just had what seemed like a pretty intense nightmare, but Eddie and Kurt were only trying to help him. They certainly didn’t deserve to be snapped at. But then Eddie reminded himself that Richie had been through some traumatic shit in the past few days, and he really owed Richie the benefit of the doubt.

After Kurt had made himself scarce, Eddie placed a soft hand on Richie’s trembling shoulder, but it was immediately thrown off. Oh god, Richie was shaking so much, and Eddie just wanted to hold him. He just wanted to hold him until Richie calmed down if Richie would only let him! Richie probably thought it was stupid and childish now, but he forgot about all the times they held each other when the other one was upset. It always helped them to feel better in the end.

“Richie,” Eddie began, but he didn’t get very far.

“Just let me sleep,” Richie mumbled. “’M tired.”

Eddie hesitated for a very long time, struggling between wanting to argue with Richie and following the doctor’s orders of trying to keep him calm. As Eddie had already seen, the doctor had said that it wouldn’t be that out of the ordinary for Richie to get agitated about various things as he continued to heal from his injury. If that happened, it was best to let Richie rest and come back to the subject at a later date, because that would be more conducive to his healing in the long run.

Eddie nodded solemnly, even though Richie couldn’t see him. Shrinking away from Richie, Eddie sat back down on the edge of his seat and whispered, “All right.”

Neither of them said anything else, and eventually, Richie’s breathing slowed and evened out further. Eddie wasn’t entirely sure if he had fallen back asleep or not, but he didn’t quite care at the moment. Eddie got to his feet and meandered out into the hallway, not so much as giving a warning to Richie.

He knew it was horribly unfair of Eddie to be angry, but he couldn’t quite help it. He was only trying to help Richie, and Eddie didn’t quite think it was fair that Richie was getting testy and snapping at him. Eddie didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do in this situation, but then, he was sure that Richie didn’t either. There was no rulebook on what to do when one’s partner ended up in the hospital with a head injury.

Eddie reminded himself that Richie was just scared and confused, and he didn’t need people to be angry at him. None of this was his fault, and he needed compassion and understanding more than anything right now. Eddie was trying, but he didn’t quite know how to give that to him right now.

Picking at the wadded up clump of tissues in his hands, Eddie sighed as he made his way down the hall. He wasn’t even sure where he intended to go. He couldn’t quite leave Richie, even though he really secretly wanted to. Despite the fact that Richie didn’t seem to want his company right now, Eddie had still promised him that he wouldn’t leave. The fact that they were both feeling strange and awkward around each other now didn’t negate that.

Eddie would just walk around the floor for a while and return to Richie’s room once he felt a little bit calmer. But then Eddie saw a familiar face that made things feel marginally better.

“ _Ben_ ,” Eddie whispered, closing the last several feet between them. He stood on his tiptoes to hug Ben around the neck, feeling one of Ben’s arms curl around his waist. “Thank you for coming. I thought you were leaving in the morning,” Eddie said when they parted.

“I planned to,” Ben said, “but I couldn’t wait. Not once Bill told me exactly what was going on. I…felt like I needed to come as soon as possible, so I took the red-eye.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said again, still picking at the tissues in his hands, but then something else caught his eye.

Ben had a fucking stuffed clown of all things tucked under his arm. There was a bright red balloon that said, “Get well soon!” in white letters tied underneath the clown’s arms.

“What the actual fuck,” Eddie muttered when he saw it, but he felt his lips curling up into a smile at the same time.

“I saw it in the gift shop downstairs,” Ben said, using his free hand to tug on the clown’s patches of orange hair. “I couldn’t resist. And I thought the clown might…you know, stir something.” Ben suddenly frowned deeply and then he added, “If it doesn’t scare the shit out of him first.”

“No, he remembers the clown is dead now,” Eddie explained. He wiped at his eyes again, not wanting there to be any errant tears from his words with Richie. He snorted and then said, “I’m sure he’ll love it. Maybe it’ll make him smile…which he kind of really needs right now.”

Ben’s frown deepened as he asked, “So he’s not…I mean, is he okay?” Concern was ebbing at his voice.

“He’s confused,” Eddie said. “Scared. He…just woke up from a nightmare just a little bit ago, and…” Eddie paused, turning to look back in the direction of Richie’s room. When he turned to face Ben again, Eddie sighed, planted his hands on his hips, and stared down at the floor in defeat. “He’s so fucking irritable too, and…I don’t know what to do to help him. He…he doesn’t even seem to _want_ my help right now.”

“What did the doctors say?” Ben asked.

Eddie started walking down the hall a moment later, and Ben fell into step beside him. “Just to give him space when he does get angry and let him cool down. Which I’m trying to do, but… _fuck_.”

“I know,” Ben replied. “He doesn’t get mad a lot. It must be weird.”

“Fucking bizarre,” Eddie agreed. “I’ve just never really had to deal with him like this, and…” He trailed off and stopped in his tracks, turning to face Ben again. “Is it awful to say that he isn’t Richie? Because that’s all I keep thinking, and I can’t help it.” Eddie buried his hands in hair, almost feeling the urge to rip it out by the root.

“No,” Ben said softly. “It’s not awful, because you’re right – it doesn’t like sound like Richie at all. But…that’s going to get better, right?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said miserably, shaking his head. “The doctor said it may, but there’s no telling for sure. It’s so unpredictable when it comes to head injuries, because no two are ever the same. They can’t guarantee if he’ll ever be the same again or not.”

Ben, ever the voice of reason said, “Well, he just woke up, you know? I’m sure things will get better once he gets accustomed to everything that happened.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, even though he didn’t really feel it. “But there’s still so much that he doesn’t remember, and…” Eddie trailed off, diverting his eyes up towards the ceiling now. Like he was praying that everything would work out for Richie in the end. “But I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“Bill said that he doesn’t remember you two…?” Ben waved around his hand, not needing to finish his question.

“No,” Eddie replied, “and no one is going to tell him.” When he lowered his eyes to Ben again, he said, “I already explained it to Bill, but…I don’t want him to be _told_ that we’re married. I…I don’t know. I feel like it’s better if he remembers on his own. Maybe that’s a bad idea, but…” Eddie stopped, shrugging his shoulders instead of finishing his thoughts.

“I can understand where you’re coming from,” Ben agreed. He waved a hand in the direction of Richie’s room. “He’s still trying to process exactly what happened to him, and…we all know it’s fucking terrifying to realize that there’s shit about your life you don’t remember. Especially big things like…who you’re in love with.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said around a breath, looking up into Ben’s kind and gentle face. He had almost been expecting Ben to react like Bill – to try and change his mind about keeping certain things from Richie – but that wasn’t what he got at all. It was just nice to feel understood about something Eddie felt so strongly about. He wished he could find the words to tell Ben what that meant to him, but he could only smile in appreciation.

Eddie started walking again, still desperately wanting to put some distance in between himself and Richie, and maybe that was an awful thing to think too. When Ben began walking with him again, Eddie asked, “Is Bev still in Chicago?”

“Yeah,” Ben told him, “and I’m fucking telling you, man, at least you didn’t have to deal with jointly owning a company with your ex-wife. Bev is about ready to pull her hair out over this.” Ben forced out a breath of annoyance. “She would just let Tom have the whole thing if it didn’t mean so much to her.”

“So he’s still contesting the divorce too?” Eddie asked.

Ben nodded. “Yeah. Unfortunately. He’s throwing around words like ‘infidelity’ even though we haven’t even _done_ anything. And we’re not _going_ to do anything until after she gets this sorted out, because the last thing he needs is more fuel on the fire.”

“He’s a whack job,” Eddie said. “It sounds like he's just throwing shit at the wall now to see what’ll stick, because he’s pissed off that he’s lost her. I thought Myra was going to pull the same shit. I’m still surprised that she finally relented and gave me the divorce I asked for when she realized how happy I was without her.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Ben replied around a sigh. “He doesn’t _want_ her to be happy, and at least Bev knows now that nothing about the way he treats her is loving. It’s just abusive.”

As awful as this was for Ben and Beverly, and as much as Eddie wished he could make things better for them, it was kind of nice being able to talk about something else for a while. Eddie had done little else but think and stress about Richie’s condition for five fucking days, but it already felt so much longer than that.

Eddie might have thought that he had been living at the hospital for a fucking month already if he didn’t have the date on his phone telling him otherwise. It felt like forever and Eddie wondered if and when this nightmare would ever be over.

~~~~~~~~~~

Richie had momentarily pretended to be asleep so that Eddie would leave him alone. Now that Eddie really had left his room, Richie wasn’t sure that he had done the right thing. He hated lying there alone, curled up in his blanket in the damn fetal position like a little child. This was exactly what he _hadn’t_ wanted – to be left alone – and now his own pride had forced it upon him.

It wasn’t that Richie didn’t want Eddie around, because he did. He wanted Eddie there desperately, because there was nothing else in the world that made Richie feel as safe as Eddie did. But when Richie had woken up to realize that he’d had a stupid nightmare, he didn’t exactly feel like Eddie should be coddling him either. It was just a nightmare after all. People had them, and then they went back to sleep. Richie was a grown man, and he didn’t need Eddie holding him and brushing his hair away from his face until he calmed down.

Richie Tozier could do those things himself, thank you very much.

Except he couldn’t, because here he was, lying in his bed alone and shaking like an idiot. His eyes kept shifting towards the door, waiting for either Eddie to come back or…someone else entirely. Despite Eddie’s and the doctor’s reassurances to the contrary, Richie was still convinced that whoever had done this to him was going to come back and finish the job. They had to, didn’t they? Just like in his dream, Richie didn’t think that a burglar would want to leave a fucking eye witness behind. Richie was just too much of a liability at the moment, but he tried not to think about that. About the fact that someone out there had very likely wanted him dead and wouldn’t rest until that job was done.

Rubbing at his eyes harshly, Richie desperately tried to think about something else. But even that didn’t help, because everything he had to think about was only a reminder that his life was a fucking disaster at the moment.

The other thing at the forefront of Richie’s mind right now was a question the doctor had asked him earlier – _What’s the very last thing you can remember before waking up in the hospital?_ Richie kept trying to answer that question himself, but he couldn’t quite do it. There were a few bits and pieces here and there, but nothing concrete. Richie could vaguely remember getting a phone call from Mike. Throwing up over a balcony. Something about fortune cookies and a token from the Capitol Theater. Eddie getting stabbed by Bowers and then returning the favor. Going back down into the sewer. A Pomeranian in a fucking _closet_. And then that giant fucking spider clown that Richie thought he could remember shriveling up, but he wasn’t quite sure. All he had were Bill’s assurances that It was dead, and Richie supposed that that was all that really mattered.

But then – and this was the most terrifying thing of all – everything went disturbingly blank after that. He didn’t even remember _leaving_ the sewer, almost like he had died down there instead and he was now living in his own personal hell.

Eddie said that he and Richie lived together now, but Richie had absolutely no memory of that either. It felt like there was a giant black hole in Richie’s brain that was swallowing up everything around it, and there was nothing Richie could do to stop it.

Did they live in Richie’s old apartment or had they gotten a bigger place? Richie assumed so, because his apartment had only been one bedroom. Eddie living with him at all was one thing, but it would have been a cold day in hell before he ever shared a bedroom with Richie. Eddie almost certainly would have killed him already out of pure frustration.

All of a sudden, Richie found himself absently rubbing his left thumb over his ring finger. His hand felt bizarrely naked and he really wasn’t sure why. He pulled his hand away from his face and looked at it like something was missing, but he had no clue what that could be. He never wore any jewelry, and he was pretty sure he didn’t even own a ring, so what on earth was he _looking_ for?

Richie felt like he was losing his mind, but at the same time, something felt like it was just out of reach of his memory. He kept getting the sensation that that memory would hit him, that _something_ would hit him, like a strange sense of déjà vu, but it didn’t. It stayed there, hidden in the black hole of his mind, irretrievable even though it felt so very, very close.

It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Turning over onto his back, Richie flinched at the bolt of pain that flashed through his head. He was on the verge of calling the nurse back and asking for more pain meds, but he would hold off on that for as long as possible. Richie was terrified of falling asleep, of having another nightmare like the one he’d just had, and he wondered if those pain meds had made him extra sleepy. He could remember fighting off the urge to sleep when Eddie had been sitting there with him and then…nothing. Like he had literally been knocked out with something pretty fucking powerful.

Staring up at the television mounted in the corner of the room, Richie saw that opening day for the LA Dodgers was coming up this week. Richie didn’t really care, because he never watched sports, but he stared at the news just to try and take his mind off of everything else that was floating around inside it.

When the camera settled on a close-up of one of the players, Richie’s stomach suddenly clenched in on itself. There was nothing in there, because it had been quite a while since the hospital had served him dinner, but Richie could feel the familiar burning sensation rising up in his esophagus. Richie couldn’t quite understand what was making him feel sick, because he didn’t hate sports _that_ much; he was just indifferent to them.

But the news program kept hovering on the one Dodgers player, on the pristine white shirt with the numbers and his name written across the back in blue. On the bright blue hat with the logo emblazoned across it in bold white lettering-

Richie sat up straight in bed like a bolt of lightning was coursing through his veins. Another wave of nausea swept over him, and Richie desperately looked around the room for a garbage can. The ugly pink receptacle sat in the opposite corner of the room, and Richie knew there was no way he was going to reach it in time.

Richie had to settle for leaning over the edge of the bed and vomiting up saliva and stomach acid all over the floor.

_To be continued…_


	8. Clues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I worked on this chapter yesterday and today to distract myself from a certain election. I hope this update finds you safe and that you enjoy this! Please take care out there!

“Richie?”

Between Richie’s heaving breaths and the uncomfortable clenching feeling in his stomach, he glanced up to see Eddie standing in the doorway of his room. Eddie’s wide eyes were frantically darting back and forth between Richie and the puddle of saliva and stomach acid that Richie had thrown up on the floor. Just behind Eddie was another man that Richie knew he recognized, but he couldn’t quite put a name to. It was like that weird sense of déjà vu, that itch he couldn’t quite scratch tickling at the back of his mind.

“Jesus, Rich,” Eddie said, quickly crossing the room to Richie’s bed. He stopped just short, however, his eyes going down to the contents of Richie’s stomach on the floor. Biting his bottom lip in trepidation, Eddie quickly skirted around to the other side of Richie’s bed to avoid the sick altogether. A moment later, Eddie dropped down onto the edge of the mattress and reached out his arms for Richie’s shoulders. But then he seemed to think better of his gesture, letting his hands drop back down to his sides.

Richie couldn’t blame him, of course. Certainly not with the way Richie had reacted the last time Eddie had tried to touched him, but now…Richie regretted it deeply. He wanted to feel Eddie’s hands on him. In fact, he _craved_ it for reasons he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. But it was stupid. Eddie was just his friend and Richie was a grown man; he was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Except he couldn’t. Richie had just thrown up from remembering something stupid, and he couldn’t even keep himself from shaking in fear. He wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to try and quell the tremors that kept coursing through his body, but for all the good it did. What Richie wanted, what he really wanted to do was to slump forward into Eddie’s arms, but that was stupid too. As much as Eddie seemed to want to help him, he shouldn’t have to hold Richie after dumb nightmares. After dumb flashes of memory forced him to be sick.

“God, Richie,” Eddie said then, breaking Richie from his thoughts. “Please… _please_ tell me what’s wrong.” Eddie’s brown eyes were large and round, and his bottom lip was quivering – like he was actually terrified for Richie’s well-being. He looked almost as afraid as Richie felt, and that somehow triggered something inside of Richie.

He just couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t continue to act like he was a strong grown man, because right now, he felt anything but. He felt like a terrified little child, and he wanted – _needed_ someone to help him. All at once, Richie slumped forward, pressing his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder. He immediately felt Eddie stiffen underneath him, and just as Richie was about to pull away, one of Eddie’s hands came to rest between Richie’s shoulder blades. Eddie paused again, but then his other came up to the back of Richie’s head. Richie didn’t move any farther, didn’t lean into Eddie all the way like he wanted to. At least, not at first.

Eddie began rubbing his hand across Richie’s back in small circles as he said, “You’re safe, okay? I told you, I’m going to stab anyone who even tries to lay a hand on you.”

“I’m going to get something cold for his face,” the other man said, and up until then, Richie had forgotten he was there at all.

The only thing in the world for Richie right now was Eddie, and that was all Richie wanted. Richie was still shaking underneath Eddie’s grip, but he still somehow felt grounded in Eddie’s arms. A part of Richie felt even more stupid and childish, clinging to his best friend like this, but Eddie didn’t seem to mind in the least. In fact, it almost even felt like Eddie wanted him there.

Was that too much to hope for?

When the other man returned with a cool washcloth from the bathroom, Eddie released Richie’s head. A moment later, Eddie was rubbing the cloth gently across Richie’s clammy forehead. It felt nice, even though Richie felt dumb as hell for having to be coddled like this.

Slowly but surely, Richie stopped shaking and his breathing returned to normal. Eddie didn’t press him anymore for answers about what Richie had been upset about, and for that, Richie was grateful. Richie knew he would have to talk about it sooner or later – especially if he wanted to make sure the asshole that did this to him was caught – but Richie wasn’t quite ready to talk about it just yet.

When Richie felt steady enough, he slowly pulled away from Eddie. Eddie had finished wiping his face down, and Richie stared long and hard at the other man. That feeling was still there – niggling and itching at the back of his mind – but no immediate name flooded through him like it had with Eddie and Bill. But Richie _knew_ he knew him, knew his face looked familiar, even if his name wasn’t just yet.

What in the hell was the matter with him?

“Remember this guy?” Eddie asked.

The man stared at Richie, a small smile curling up around the corner of his lips. “Come on, man,” he said. “’Every Brazilian soccer player wrapped up into one person.’ Don’t tell me you could even forget my gorgeous face.”

And then it was there, exploding to life inside Richie’s mind, and a part of him wondered why all of his other memories couldn’t have come along with it.

“ _Ben_ ,” Richie murmured as he expelled a heavy breath of air. He brought a hand up to his face in order to wipe away more sweat as much as in an effort to hide his eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ben said good-naturedly, not a hint of hurt in his voice.

“I…mostly forgot you’d lost so much weight,” Richie offered as an explanation, even though it felt wholly unnecessary now. “Everything after Mike called me is…hazy.”

“But you remember the clown, right?” Ben asked, holding up the get well present he’d brought with him – a stupid stuffed clown with a stupid red balloon.

“I remember,” Richie said around a soft breath. “What the fuck, man?”

“He looked so lonely down in the hospital gift shop,” Ben said, staring down at the clown in his arms. “I doubt many people buy the clowns.”

“Yeah, with good reason,” Richie said, watching as Ben set the clown down on his bedside table. “Fucking terrifying.”

“Oh, if anyone asks,” Eddie said, speaking up for the first time in nearly a minute, “the clown is an inside joke. I had to tell the doctor something, because Richie kept going on about the fucking clown like a goddamn lunatic.”

“I have amnesia,” Richie whined, and despite the weightiness of the situation, everything almost felt normal again. Being able to fall into a pattern of banter with the other Losers felt like going home.

“Even a dude with amnesia should know well enough not to talk about fucking space clowns around the general population,” Eddie said.

“So I slipped,” Richie said around a pout, but it was okay. As was always the case when they bickered, they knew it was never meant in a mean way. “I’m barely in control of what I say under _normal_ circumstances. You have to cut me some slack…considering.”

Silence fell in the room, and Eddie stared at him long and hard. It was as if he was waiting for Richie to broach the subject further, to talk about what had driven Richie into a panic attack in the first place. Eddie, however, still didn’t ask, and Richie loved him for it.

Richie swallowed hard and leaned back, finally feeling safe enough with Ben and Eddie there to relax against the mattress again. Richie looked back and forth between them, and it was their kind gazes that made Richie want to ask what was really on his mind.

“So…” Richie began, occupying himself with a corner of his bedsheet. He wrapped the cotton around his index finger, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. “I have to ask you guys something that has nothing to do with…what’s going on right now, but I need to know. And if this comes as a complete shock to you, I’m sorry, but…”

“You can ask us anything,” Eddie cut him off gently, laying a hand over one of Richie’s.

“Yeah, man,” Ben agreed, “and we’ll answer it the best we can. I mean, we killed a fucking space clown together. There’s little else we can’t tell each other, right?”

If Richie wasn’t mistaken, he thought he saw Eddie’s gaze falter for a split second. But Richie nodded in response to Ben’s question regardless.

“Yeah,” Richie said, directing his eyes back down to his sheet again. “Am I…out?” When silence met his ears, he glanced back up before he asked, “I am, right?”

“You’re out,” Eddie told him, a smile playing around his lips. “You had a big show where you came out, and…yeah.” There was that expression on Eddie’s face again where it seemed like he almost wanted to say something else, but he remained quiet.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Richie breathed, trying his best to ignore the feeling that had settled into his stomach at Eddie’s reaction. He threw an arm over his eyes and took a deep breath, willing the tightness in his chest to loosen. “I know that’s kind of…inconsequential in the grand scheme of everything that’s going on now, but…the thought of being back in the closet was almost suffocating, you know?”

“It’s not inconsequential,” Eddie said, tightening his hand around Richie’s. “I was there…through your whole coming out. I know how stifling it was for you when you weren’t able to be yourself.”

“We all do,” Ben added. He had taken a seat on the opposite side of the mattress from Eddie, careful to avoid the mess that Richie had made on the floor earlier. “We…we all came to your coming out show, and…you were so fucking happy when it went well. Do you…remember any of that?”

Richie shook his head, that entire experience swallowed up by the big black hole in his memory. “I told you,” Richie said around a sigh, “the last thing I really remember clearly was Mike calling me. I…I threw up over the balcony at the venue where my show was. And then everything gets…fuzzy.”

“The balcony,” Eddie said, recognition flashing across his face. “When you first woke up, you asked if you had hit your head by falling over the balcony. Is that what you were thinking about?”

Richie nodded slowly. “Yeah. I…almost thought that I had accidentally fallen over the balcony when I was throwing up.” He snorted before he added, “That would have been quite a headline, huh? ‘Trashmouth falls to death while puking guts out.’” A heavy silence fell into the room then, which Richie desperately tried to break by saying, “I vaguely remember fighting the clown again and then…nothing. It’s absolutely blank after that. But…I’m not dead, right?”

It was still floating around in the back of Richie’s mind that he might just have died down there in the sewer while fighting Pennywise, and this was his own personal hell. Maybe he had died and had woken up in this distorted, scary sense of reality where nothing quite made sense and where there was a madman out to get him. It was kind of funny in a way – they had killed the fucking space clown only for Richie to be plunged back into a nightmare where a _person_ had tried to kill him. Not a supernatural being from outer space or even his own sexuality, but…a human being of all things. That was what he was hiding from now.

“You’re not dead,” Eddie firmly, his grip firm around Richie’s hand. “You just…some asshole tried to hurt you, and I’m sorry.” Eddie bit at his bottom lip, diverting his eyes again and staring off at the opposite corner of the room.

“Hey,” Richie said softly, turning his hand around inside Eddie’s. Richie gripped it, letting their fingers weave together, and it felt nice, comfortable. It didn’t feel awkward or weird like Richie almost thought it might – holding his best friend’s hand like they were something more.

But then Richie lost his train of thought, because that wasn’t all Eddie was, and Richie knew it. He may not have remembered the most recent events of his life, but Richie remembered everything from when they were children. He remembered Eddie fighting him for the hammock, and how warmth had spread out from his stomach to envelope him whenever Eddie’s bare skin brushed up against his. Richie remembered carving their initials into the Kissing Bridge, and desperately wishing and hoping that it wouldn’t be a secret he’d have to keep for the rest of his life.

On the other hand, at least Richie didn’t have to hide his sexuality anymore. Just that much was a huge weight lifted off his shoulders, but it still hurt knowing that he’d never had the courage to admit his feelings to Eddie in all of it. Didn’t have the courage to be truly and completely honest about who he was. About who he was really in love with.

Despite the fact that Richie didn’t remember anything about their grown-up life together, there was one thing that Richie was completely sure about – that he’d love Eddie until the day he died. He’d been in love with Eddie ever since he was thirteen, and Richie now knew that that part of him would never die. It would never go away. His love for Eddie was a permanent part of him.

When Richie felt Eddie’s fingers entwined with his, however, Richie wondered if he was taking advantage. If he was using their friendship as an excuse to touch and be close to Eddie when things between them in Eddie’s mind were purely platonic.

Richie shook these thoughts from his head just then, pulled back down to reality by the deeply saddened expression on Eddie’s face.

“It’s not your fault,” Richie said quietly, because he knew exactly what Eddie was thinking. Knew exactly where his best friend’s thoughts were wandering. “I know you would have stabbed that motherfucker if you had been there, but… _you found me_. I…I would have died if you didn’t find me.”

When Eddie looked at Richie again, his eyes were glistening with unshed tears and his bottom lip was quivering. But then he forced a smile before he said, “I would have stabbed the _shit_ out of whoever did this.”

“I know,” Richie said, and he did. He knew that Eddie would never let anything happen to him and that he would go out of his way to keep Richie safe. It was that knowledge that finally pushed Richie to voice his fears. To talk about the one thing that Richie wanted to pretend had never happened. The one thing that now scared the shit out of him even more than the vague memories of Pennywise floating around in his mind.

Ben laid a hand over Richie’s lower leg, like he knew exactly what Richie wanted to talk about and was trying to offer Richie the best support he knew how. But still, Richie didn’t quite know how to know how to put his thoughts into words. Ben and Eddie seemed to understand this, and they didn’t say anything. They only kept their hands on Richie, supportive and unmoving. Unmoving like their friendship had always been. Through everything. Through the fucking clown, and even through him becoming more comfortable with his sexuality and feeling safe enough to come out.

Taking a deep breath, Richie closed his eyes against the bolt of fear that thundered through him as he let his fears bubble to the surface once again. “I…I remember something about…the person who did this,” Richie admitted, feeling a burning sensation in his throat once again. Forcing the feeling away, Richie opened his eyes once again. “That’s…that’s why I got sick.”

“Rich…” Eddie said, “that’s great.” Although his voice sounded anything but, Richie knew that Eddie was only concerned for his well-being. Eddie’s eyes quickly darted to Ben before he added, “I mean, not that you got sick, but that you’re starting to remember. Every little bit helps, because I feel like I did fuck all to help the detective.” All at once, Eddie seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping as he let out of a heavy breath. “And I realize that’s a really shitty thing to tell you.”

“Don’t…don’t worry about it,” Richie said, trying his best to sound as firm as possible. “I wouldn’t want you to…lie to me about how far they actually are in the investigation. That would only give me a false sense of security and that’s the last thing I want.”

“I realize that,” Eddie said stiltedly. His bottom lip was shaking again as he added, “I just really wish they would catch that motherfucker, whoever it is.”

“Motherfucker is an LA Dodgers fan,” Richie said then, and it miraculously didn’t make him want to be sick again. Didn’t want to make him puke his guts out at the image of that fucking baseball cap. Not with Eddie and Ben there, and not with the way they were offering him their support through their touch.

Eddie’s eyes were wide, his hand so tight around Richie’s, it was almost painful. Richie, however, didn’t mind, and he only squeezed Eddie’s hand in return. Eddie swallowed audibly before he asked, “How do you know that?”

Richie let out a soft breath before he said, “He had a hat – a black and white Dodgers hat.” He gestured towards the television in the corner of the room. “They were talking about the Dodgers’ opening game on TV, and that’s when I remembered. I remember seeing it when…this happened.” Richie touched his forehead gingerly, wiping away some of the hair that had been glued down to his skin with sweat. “Everything else is still really dark and fuzzy, but I remember that hat clearly. I realize that isn’t a huge piece of evidence, because Dodgers fans are a dime a dozen here, but…”

When Richie trailed off, Ben tightened his grip on Richie’s leg. “Like Eddie said, every little bit helps,” Ben said confidently.

“It does,” Eddie agreed. “And if you’ve remembered this much already, who knows what else you might recall.” Richie didn’t respond to this, so Eddie said, “I know that’s a really scary thought for you right now-“

Richie shook his head, trying his best to keep his movements slight so the pain wouldn’t flare up in his head again. “It makes me feel fucking sick,” Richie said, “but at the same time, I _want_ to remember. I want to put this motherfucker away.” There was a slightly queasy feeling in his stomach, but it was overridden by a faint and strange sense of excitement, because Richie didn’t think he ever wanted anything more than to get his attacker.

Except maybe for Eddie. And to be out of the closet, but he already had that.

“We’ll put him away,” Eddie told him. He leaned in slightly closer to Richie, his eyes wide and unwavering. “And if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to stab the shit out of him when they finally catch him.”

“I know you will,” Richie said, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Despite the fact that he was still scared out of his mind, and a part of him wanted to run away from what had happened to him, it made him feel slightly better and safer knowing that he had so much support around him. He had Eddie, and Ben, and the rest of the Losers, and they weren’t going to let him go through this alone.

~~~~~~~~~~

First thing the next morning, Eddie called Detective Bannerman to let him know that Richie felt ready to try and talk about what happened to him. Eddie warned the detective that they still didn’t have that much information, but Bannerman seemed to think that just discussing things with Richie would help; maybe the conversation would even further stir Richie’s memory.

The detective was planning on coming just after lunchtime, so Eddie told Richie he had to eat something beforehand. Richie’s appetite wasn’t quite what it had been before his attack, but he managed to choke down at least some of his lunch. He ate half of his hot roast beef sandwich and most of his mashed potatoes before trying to pawn his fruit cup off on Eddie.

“It’s not even fresh fruit,” Eddie complained from his chair next to Richie’s bed. He held up the prepackaged fruit swimming in syrup, frowning at it scrutinizingly. “These things are filled with sugar. I can’t believe they’re trying to feed you this.”

“That’s what I mean,” Richie said. “They could at least _pretend_ to be healthy by giving me _fresh_ fruit.”

Eddie could help it. He snickered loudly, because he couldn’t believe how much he had rubbed off on Richie during their short time together. Just a year ago, Richie wouldn’t have even thought twice about eating processed fruit in corn syrup, but now, he was actually complaining about it. Moreover, even if Richie couldn’t quite remember the conversations he’d had with Eddie about developing healthier diets, it seemed that he had retained the effects of Eddie’s presence nonetheless. That reassured Eddie the tiniest bit that his Richie wasn’t lost to him forever.

“Dude,” Eddie said, “you have no idea how much you sound like me right now, do you?”

“Well…” Richie began, but then he trailed off, like he had no clue how to respond to that. In the end, he said, “This is a hospital! Shouldn’t they be trying to make me better and not…worse? And this sandwich would be so much better if the bread hadn’t been sitting in gravy for ages before it got to me.” Richie prodded at the remainder of his sandwich with his fork. “It’s just mush. The potatoes were pretty good though.”

“Mm, it’s pretty hard to ruin mashed potatoes.”

“My dad could. Believe me.”

“That’s because he used potato _flakes_. You can’t make decent mashed potatoes from that shit.”

“My dad thought he could,” Richie said, his voice taking on a warm nostalgic tone. He had picked up the cup of coffee they’d brought with his lunch and gingerly took a sip of it. “And just for the record, decaf coffee is fucking disgusting.” He sighed overdramatically.

“A lot of caffeine isn’t good for you right now given your injuries,” Eddie pointed out. “At least they’re taking that into account.”

“I know, but it’s still gross.” Richie scrunched up his nose before taking another sip of his coffee.

Eddie smiled, because this was perhaps the most normal conversation they’d had since Richie had woken up. Richie didn’t seem the least bit stressed or worried, and he was so easily falling back into his normal pattern with Eddie. If Eddie could forget everything that was currently going on, it was almost like he and Richie were just having a regular afternoon at home.

Maybe, just maybe, it was a sign that his Richie was going to come back to him eventually.

“Mr. Tozier?”

When Eddie looked up towards the doorway and saw that Detective Bannerman had joined them, however, that spell was suddenly shattered.

“Richie,” Richie corrected around a grimace. “Please call me Richie. Mr. Tozier was my dad, and I’m hardly even old enough to be called _Mister_.”

“You’re forty-two,” Eddie said. “That’s plenty old enough.”

“You’re not far behind me, old man.”

“Richie,” the detective said, stepping farther into the room. He had his little notebook and pen at the ready as he made his way over to Richie’s bed. “I’m Detective Bannerman. I’ve been working your case and I’ve already spoken to Eddie about the general events of the day of your attack.”

Richie nodded slowly, gingerly like he always did now once he had learned that any sudden and harsh movements could cause his head to explode with pain. “Yes,” Richie said, “and he said he told you that I really _don’t_ have that much to offer.” He gave the detective a pleading glance before he said, “It’s all still really fuzzy. I don’t remember much of what happened at all.”

“That’s okay,” the detective said, jotting something down in his notebook. “I have a few further questions for Eddie too, and I can do that too while I’m here.” He paused for a moment before he said, “I’m glad to see you doing so well. It seemed very precarious for a while there.”

Richie momentarily diverted his eyes to Eddie, and then he shrugged. “I guess.”

Eddie knew that Richie’s thoughts were still largely preoccupied with the previous night’s events – his nightmare and his subsequent panic attack. It probably wasn’t what Richie would call doing ‘well’, and Eddie didn’t think so either. Then again, Eddie had to remind himself about where they had been just a few days ago – not even sure if Richie would survive at all, or what kinds of injuries he’d have as a result. And now here Richie was, eating his own lunch and carrying on a fairly normal conversation with Eddie. All things considered, Richie was doing so much better than any of them had thought he would.

There was just a big, gaping hole in the middle of Richie’s memory that Eddie hoped to god would eventually fill in. That Richie wouldn’t completely forget everything they shared forever.

“Eddie said that you remembered something about that night,” the detective said.

“Yeah,” Richie whispered. “And I feel like it’s a really dumb inconsequential detail, but the man who came into my home had a black and white LA Dodgers hat on.”

Detective Bannerman paused, glancing up at Richie over the top of his notebook. “You’re sure?”

Eddie could see Richie swallowing before he said, “Positive. I remember looking at that fucking logo on his hat and then…pain. I realize that isn’t a lot to go on, but…”

“Every little bit helps,” the detective said, scribbling the information down on his notepad. “It could even turn out to be a vital piece of evidence once we start putting more of the pieces together. If he was wearing this hat when he attacked you – it could even contain your DNA, which would be invaluable. We just have to find him.”

“But you’re far away from doing that, aren’t you?” Richie asked miserably.

“Further than I’d like,” Detective Bannerman replied, “but I’ve been doing this for a long time. Oftentimes, we start out with even less to go on than this, but then we eventually end up with an airtight case. Criminals can be careless, and they make mistakes. If you keep remembering things, and we keep our eyes open, we might just get lucky.”

“So this wasn’t a completely dumb reason to call you?” Richie asked uncertainly.

“Not at all,” the detective said, “and I want you to continue to call me regardless of what you remember. No detail is too small.”

“Okay.”

The detective turned his attention to Eddie next and said, “Were you able to take stock of your home since the last time we spoke? Did you notice anything missing?”

Eddie shook his head miserably. “I don’t think anything was missing, but…it was hard to tell. Nothing valuable was taken, at least. Not even Richie’s wallet, or our televisions, or anything like that, but…they ransacked the master bedroom.”

“Yes,” Detective Bannerman said, “it was quite a mess when we searched it that night.”

“I tried my best to see if anything was taken,” Eddie said, his voice almost pleading, “but it was such a mess. I didn’t notice anything in particular missing, but…it was upsetting having to sort through it all.”

“They ransacked the bedroom?” Richie asked, his eyes wide and unblinking behind his glasses.

“Yeah,” Eddie said around a sigh. “The clothes were ripped out of the closet and the dresser and thrown around. Even…the sheets and the mattress were a mess.”

Frowning deeply, Richie hung his head to stare down at his lap. It looked like he was trying to work out some very complicated math problem, and Eddie was coming to recognize this expression as a sign that Richie was remembering something. Eddie learned to never say anything during these times, because he was afraid of disrupting what seemed to be a very complicated process. Eddie wondered exactly what was going on in Richie’s mind, because he could almost see the wheels turning in there. What must it feel like to have so many forgotten memories fighting to get to the surface?

Finally, Richie looked back up at Eddie, and Richie’s eyes were much clearer than they had been. “I offered them my wallet, and they said they didn’t want it,” Richie said. “Do you think they were they looking for something else?”

Richie had arrived at the same conclusion that Eddie had – that whoever had done this had been looking for something in particular to have ransacked the bedroom. Eddie, in fact, was so interested in this fact that he had barely even registered the rest of what Richie had said.

Detective Bannerman, however, didn’t let the smallest detail slip past him. “They?” he asked.

Richie nodded firmly and repeated, “They. There were two men. They were talking to each other. Laughing about the fact that I offered them my wallet. Said that wasn’t what they came there for. I even said they could have the televisions and stuff, but…I guess they didn’t want those either.”

Eddie shook his head. “Absolutely nothing big was missing – the televisions, your laptop, the PlayStation, and the Blu-ray player were all still there.” Eddie leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows heavily on the mattress as he stared up at Bannerman. “So they were looking for something in particular,” Eddie said quietly.

“What could they have wanted in the _bedroom_?” Richie asked.

“It’s hard to say,” Bannerman said, jotting something down in his notes. “Maybe nothing. Oftentimes, burglars will ransack a room or two just to throw us off.”

“But they didn’t _take_ anything!” Eddie cried, throwing his hands up. “That’s what I don’t understand. People don’t just don’t break into random houses for _nothing_!”

Silence fell in the room, but then Richie broke it when he said, “Unless their target was me all along.” His voice was small, scared. “I mean, I am mildly famous.” He huffed out a breath, which he had clearly meant as a laugh, but it didn’t quite come out that way. “Maybe they just hate me.”

“Rich…” Eddie sighed. He wasn’t sure if it would be welcome, but he laid his hand over top of Richie’s where it was resting on the mattress. It wasn’t thrown off; in fact, Richie turned his hand around, letting his fingers weave themselves through Eddie’s just like they had before. Richie offered him a small smile, and all at once, things didn’t feel so far apart between them like they had before.

“That could very well be the case,” Detective Bannerman interjected, sounding hesitant to have disrupted the clearly tender moment between Richie and Eddie. “It could have been a targeted attack on you in particular, in which case, they could have ransacked the bedroom as a ruse.”

Richie heaved a sigh, resting his head back against the stack of pillows behind him and staring up at the ceiling. “I’ve been in show business for quite a long time now, but I never felt unsafe like this before. Not even when I first came out.” Richie’s eyes suddenly darted to Detective Bannerman before Richie fastened his teeth over his bottom lip.

Richie probably hadn’t planned on making a comment about coming out, but it was becoming second nature to Richie now to talk about his sexuality in casual conversation. There was hardly anyone who was aware of Richie that _didn’t_ know he was gay by now, so he didn’t even have to think twice about keeping it a secret anymore. Either way, the detective already knew that Eddie and Richie were married, so he hadn’t delivered any earth-shattering news like he probably thought he had.

“Richie,” Detective Bannerman said, gesturing in the air with his pen, “would you feel safer if we posted a guard outside your door? It does seem like this could have been a targeted attack, so that is absolutely something we could provide for you.”

“I…a guard?” Richie asked, like it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. He shook his head, but then he paused. He seemed to consider this in silence for a long time, his eyes going to Eddie, like he might have all of the answers.

“If it would make you feel safer,” Eddie said, squeezing Richie’s hand, “and if they’re offering, then I don’t see why not.”

Richie snorted. “I’m hardly a celebrity that needs protection. I’m just…a dumb small-time comedian.”

“You don’t need to be famous in the least to warrant police protection,” Bannerman said. “It’s something we offer to anyone where it seems like an attempt may have been made on their lives. You don’t need to feel bad or embarrassed about accepting that sort of help from us.”

“An attempt on my life, Jesus,” Richie muttered. He flung his free arm over his face, burying it in the crook his elbow. “I only ever just wanted to make people _laugh_. It was never supposed to make people want to _kill_ me.”

Eddie suppressed the urge to say, ‘ _I_ want to kill you all the time,’ but he didn’t quite think it would be prudent at the moment. Not in front of Richie, and certainly not in front of Detective Bannerman.

Instead, Eddie said, “I think it might be worth it for your peace of mind. It is okay to ask for help when you need it.”

“I know,” Richie grumbled, rubbing his hand over his face. He accidentally knocked his glasses off his nose with his movements, so he straightened them before he said, “I just…I don’t ask for help. Even when I do need it.”

“Maybe it’s time you did.” When Richie didn’t reply, Eddie added, “It would be for my peace of mind too, you know. You’re…you’re my best friend and I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”

Richie let his arm drop from his eyes and he glanced at Eddie. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I do,” Eddie replied, “and I’m not the only one. The rest of the Losers care and you have a lot of fans who care."

Richie stared down at their intertwined hands, but then his gaze shifted to his free hand. His left hand. He had it resting in his lap with the palm facing up, his fingers splayed open. It was like he might find all of the answers he needed right there in the palm of his hand.

“Okay,” Richie said all at once. “If I’m not being utterly ridiculous by asking for it, then all right. I would absolutely feel better if I had a guard outside my door.”

“There’s absolutely nothing ridiculous about it,” Detective Bannerman said. “We can have someone here first thing in the morning for you.”

“And I trust their credentials will be on the up and up,” Eddie said, giving Bannerman what he hoped was a withering glare. The last thing they needed was a half-assed deputy that didn’t know his right foot from his left.

“It will be a reputable guard,” Detective Bannerman reassured him, like he had made that same promise time and time again during his career. When he turned his attention back to Richie, he asked, “Is there anything else at all you’re able to recall?”

Richie frowned, and again, it looked like he was almost hurting himself with the effort to try and recall any new information. Eddie hated seeing him like this, hated seeing him struggle, and he wished he could do something to help.

In the end, Richie only shook his head. “I wish I could,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” the detective reassured him. “What you have been able to remember will be extremely helpful. Just continue to keep in touch if you do have anything new to share with us.”

“Okay,” Richie whispered, even though he looked and sounded anything but. He appeared completely defeated and disappointed with himself, like he hadn’t done anything at all to help the investigation. Eddie was surprised, however, that Richie was as calm as he was, and that he hadn’t had any sort of panic attack by discussing the events of that night.

When the detective was gone, Eddie gave him the most reassuring smile he could. Eddie squeezed his hand and said, “You did so good.”

“But I didn’t remember anything big or…” Richie trailed off, pressing a hand to his temple like his headache was coming back. “What are they going to do? Walk around looking for two guys with Dodgers hats on, asking if they had anything to do with the attack on me?” Richie snorted.

“You heard what the detective said – no detail too small,” Eddie told him, trying his very best to remain positive. “And if you remembered that much already, who knows what’ll come back to you going forward.”

“I guess,” Richie mumbled, and he sounded like he was getting extremely tired now, and Eddie didn’t blame him; it had been an eventful day for him already, and it was only just after lunchtime. Richie was staring down at his empty hand again, and he asked, “Eddie?”

“Hm?”

When he looked up at Eddie again, he said, “If you want to leave, I won’t hold it against you.”

Eddie blinked, because he had absolutely no idea why Richie would suggest such a thing. Eddie wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, and he thought that his presence was helping Richie at the very least. “What do you mean?” Eddie asked. “Of course I’m not leaving! I told you I’m going to be here until they tell you that you can go home.”

“No,” Richie replied, “I mean, if you want to leave our house, you can.”

“What the fuck – you mean move out?” Eddie exclaimed. He shook his head wildly and said, “Rich, it’s our home! I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere.” Eddie swallowed hard and asked, “Unless you really want me to.” Was Richie trying to do what he had done before when he had shut Eddie out and asked him to leave the room? Was he trying save Eddie from having to deal with all of this shit at all?

Richie’s eyes were wide behind his glasses when he replied. “No, I don’t want you to! Not at all. I…I like having you around. I just meant…you know, since it seems like there’s people out there that want me dead.” He forced a laugh that had absolutely no humor in it whatsoever. “I thought maybe you’d feel safer if you weren’t around me.”

“I won’t,” Eddie replied, shaking his head. “You’re…you’re my best friend. Even if you can’t remember everything, you have to know that I wouldn’t still be living with you for shits and giggles. I like being around you too, and I _want_ to help you. So no, I won’t feel safer if I went somewhere else and didn’t know what was going on with you. I’d actually be having panic attacks up the ass if I just up and left.”

“But you’re not _afraid_ that people are going to come after me? That they might do something to you just to get to me?”

“I told you,” Eddie replied, “I’ll stab the shit out of anyone that even comes near you. I’m not afraid of them.” Eddie almost surprised himself with how easily those words came to him, how completely honestly he meant them.

“Come on,” Richie said. “I know you, okay? Even with my fucked up memory right now, I remember enough about you to know that…you get scared of shit like that. You’re…afraid of your own shadow sometimes,” he added sheepishly, like he was prepared for Eddie to get upset at his comment.

“You’re not entirely wrong,” Eddie agreed, “but you’ve forgotten what happened during our final fight with Pennywise.”

Richie fell into silence at that, his face scrunching up like he was desperately trying to recall what in the hell Eddie was talking about. In the end, however, he only shook his head and said, “Yeah. I…I remember something about a Pomeranian in a _closet_ and a giant fucking spider clown. But they’re just…flashes. I don’t clearly remember anything that happened down in the sewer, but tell me that I’m not completely losing my mind.”

Eddie smiled warmly. “You’re not. The Pomeranian was one of the things It showed us and It did take the form of a giant fucking spider clown. You’re not crazy.”

“Okay. Okay, good.” He was staring up at the ceiling in relief, like he had really been concerned for his own sanity.

“But you’re right,” Eddie told him. “I was having panic attacks up the ass when we first went down there, and…you helped me.”

Richie’s eyes darted to him again and he asked, “What did I do?”

“You pulled me aside,” Eddie told him, “reminded me of all of the brave things I’ve done, and told me I’m braver than I think. I think about those words every day.”

It was Richie’s turn to smile. “Every day?”

Eddie nodded and replied, “Yeah. And, um…not to pat myself on the back, but that fucking clown had you in the Deadlights, so I stabbed the shit out of him too.”

“You saved me from the Deadlights? You…you weren’t scared?”

“Terrified,” Eddie said softly, “but I was even more afraid for _you_. I couldn’t let anything happen to you then, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you now, okay? I’m going to stay here with you and make sure you’re all right. And when you get to go home, I’m going to be there too to help you. You don’t have to do this alone, and you don’t need to feel bad about it. I _want_ to help you, so...will you let me?”

Richie’s breathing had grown hard, his chest heaving up and down. There was a shimmer of tears in his eyes, which he tried unsuccessfully to blink away. The corners of his mouth were pulled down into a frown, but then he nodded. His hand tightened around Eddie’s, and when he spoke again, his voice was shaking.

“I feel like I can do this if I have you,” Richie said.

“You’ve got me,” Eddie whispered. He had to push down the urge to bring Richie’s hand up to his lips and kiss it. Instead, Eddie reached out with his free hand, using his thumb to swipe at the tears that had gathered underneath Richie’s eyes.

Eddie knew they still had a long way to go, and there was still no guarantee that Richie would remember anything about their relationship. But at the same time, the space between them didn’t quite seem so far anymore.

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: At the risk of giving too much away, I will just say that what happened to Richie was not a hate crime! Just wanted to give you guys a heads up that it's definitely not going that way and certainly not without warning!


	9. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I apologize for the wait on this chapter. I was a little bit unsure about the events of this chapter at first, so I worked on my other ongoing story, Brave while I decided on the plot here. And then life happened and my beloved seventeen-year-old kitty fell ill and passed away, which has been very hard and understandably killed any inspiration I had. Needless to say, it’s been a very rough holiday for me and…just fuck 2020. It’s been such a struggle getting back into writing, but thank you so much for being patient and for your continued interest in this story! Rest assured that I will keep working on this story, even when there might be longer breaks in between updates. I hope this chapter was worth the wait!
> 
> The rest of this story will be dedicated to my sweet kitty, who was the bestest writing buddy in the world and would sit with me while I was writing to make sure I wouldn’t stop and get up!
> 
> Beethoven
> 
> My sweet baby boy
> 
> June 23, 2003 ~ December 17, 2020
> 
> When I needed a hand, I found your paw

Eddie’s hands were shaking as he reached up and removed his and Richie’s wedding picture from the wall. He set it down on the table in front of him and stared at it for a very long time. He let the pad of his thumb drift across the glass, over his and Richie’s hands clasped tightly in the picture, over their wedding rings shining brightly in the setting sun.

A moment later, Bill joined him from the back bedroom, carrying a few more of Eddie’s pictures with Richie. “Do you want these put away too?” Bill asked, joining him at the table in the hallway.

The pictures in question were from Richie and Eddie’s various visits to landmarks around California – one from the Santa Monica Pier, another from the Golden Gate Bridge, and the third from their most recent trip to Clear Lake. Eddie took them from Bill, his fingers tightening around the frames so much, his knuckles were turning white.

“There’s nothing romantic about these pictures,” Bill offered helpfully, indicating the pictures in Eddie’s hands. “I think you’d be safe leaving them out.”

It was true; unlike their wedding picture, Richie and Eddie simply had their arms slung around each other and were grinning at the camera, just like friends might do. There was absolutely nothing to indicate that they were in a romantic relationship together.

“I don’t know,” Eddie muttered, setting the three smaller frames on top of his wedding picture on the table. He pressed his palms over his face and rubbed his eyes.

Eddie was so fucking tired and making even the simplest decision felt overwhelming to him. On the one hand, Richie was doing so much better than he had been physically, and the doctors were more than confident in sending him home. Richie, however, was still prone to anxiety and panic attacks over what had happened, which in turn made Eddie’s own anxiety shoot through the roof.

Eddie was trying so hard to be strong for Richie. He knew that none of this was Richie’s fault, and he didn’t blame him in the least for what he was going through, and the last thing he wanted was for Richie to think that he was making Eddie’s own anxiety worse. In the end, it got to be exhausting, trying his best to remain strong when Eddie felt anything but. It was the rare times like these, when Eddie took some time away from Richie, that his emotions threatened to overwhelm him completely; even doing something simple like making a dumb decision for himself felt like enough to push Eddie over the edge.

Just then, Bill placed his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, gripping it tightly and then letting it drift down toward the top of Eddie’s back. He traced small circles over the back of Eddie’s shirt, offering as much comfort as he knew how.

“Remember what the doctors said,” Bill told him. “It’s going to help Richie in the long run to be reminded of things he’s forgotten. Maybe it would be better to leave these out for him.” He ran his fingers over the white painted frames of the three pictures in question. “You guys had good times together.”

All at once, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, unable to continue staring down at the pictures before him any longer. His eyes burned with tears that threatened to leak out of his eyelids and it was everything he could do to keep them from falling.

“Come on,” Bill said, wrapping his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

Eddie leaned against him, letting Bill wrap him tightly in both his arms. Eddie turned and pressed his face into Bill’s shoulder, hiding his eyes there while a part of him wished that it could make the world around him disappear. At least for a little while.

“I told you, he still loves you,” Bill said firmly. “ _Nothing_ is going to take away his feelings for you. _Ever_.”

“I just wish-“ Eddie broke off with a sob, pulling away from Bill and quickly trying to wipe the tears away from his eyes. He turned his head, catching a glimpse of the pictures again before he continued. “He’s forgotten so much, you know? I…I think that’s what hurts the most right now. That he doesn’t remember all of the good times we’ve had together. That he doesn’t remember our wedding. Even if he does still love me, do you think he’ll ever remember all of this?” Eddie gestured towards the pictures, staring into Bill’s eyes hopefully.

Bill let out a heavy breath and said, “I wish I could answer that for you. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like to not know what he may or may not remember.” Bill paused, swallowing audibly in the quietness of the hallway. “But…even if he never remembered any of this, if he just took you in his arms one day, and hugged you, and kissed you, and told you he loved you – would that be enough? Because I think that’s definitely in the realm of possibilities.”

Those tears were back with a vengeance and this time, Eddie did nothing to stop them. They dripped down his cheeks as he nodded in response to Bill’s question. “That…what I _wouldn’t_ give for that. Even if he _didn’t_ remember all of this-“ Eddie paused, pressing his palm against the glass over his wedding picture, “-it would hurt. I’m not going to pretend that it wouldn’t, but…I just want _him_. I want to be able to…love him the way we used to. The way…the way we woke up on that last morning before, and…just _loved_ each other without even having to think twice about it. If we have to make completely new memories again together, so be it, but I’d just be happy knowing that _nothing_ could make him stop loving me. Not even these fuck nuggets that tried to hurt him.”

“Nothing _could_ make him stop loving you,” Bill said firmly, gripping Eddie’s shoulder again. “Okay? I know that’s hard to think about right now, but I refuse to believe for one second that you two won’t find your way back to each other. I’ve never seen anything stronger than the love that you and Richie share, and that isn’t going to go away. Just don’t tell Audra I said that.”

This caused Eddie to smile the tiniest bit. “I won’t.”

“These fuck nuggets certainly aren’t going to take that away from you, okay?” Bill asked. “You and Richie are so much stronger than that. Don’t let them make you believe otherwise. Please.”

“Okay,” Eddie whispered before something that Richie had said came rushing back to him. “Richie told me the other day that he felt like he could get through this as long as he has me. I guess…I feel that way too. We can do this together and…maybe we will find our way back each other.” Eddie momentarily glanced at the pictures on the table again before he added, “In some form.”

“You will,” Bill told him. “You found your way back to each other after twenty years apart. Nothing’s going to keep you apart now.”

Just then, the alarm on the dryer beeped, and Bill said, “The sheets are done. Do you want me to get them back on the bed for you?”

“Can you?” Eddie asked, a pleading tone to his voice. He felt like he was asking so much of Bill lately, but still, Bill never made Eddie feel like he was a burden in any way. Bill had truly been by Eddie’s side through all of this, and Eddie sometimes wondered what he had done to deserve friends like this.

With the knowledge that the assholes who had done this to Richie had ransacked their bedroom, Eddie made it his purpose to clean, wash, and disinfect every single surface they might have touched. That included washing all clothing and bedding items as well as wiping down everything else in the room. It infuriated Eddie to know they had come into his and Richie’s private sanctuary and gone through their things. Knowing that every trace of the perpetrators had been wiped away at least helped him to feel a little bit better.

As it was, however, Eddie didn’t quite think he could go about putting the sheets back on the bed he shared with Richie. The bed he _had_ shared with Richie but wouldn’t be any longer. Eddie had begun moving some of his things into the spare bedroom under the guise that that was the room he used and slept in since moving in with Richie.

It was strange, to say the least, attempting to inject some sort of life into the second bedroom. They had never done anything with it in terms of decorating, not like they had to the master bedroom. They had painted the walls in the master bedroom a soft sky blue and had hung deep navy blue curtains over the windows. Not to mention, there were pictures along the walls and littering the surfaces of the tables and dresser. Eddie had a bunch of his books laying around and Richie’s notebooks were everywhere, because god forbid he think of a joke and didn’t have fifty million pieces of paper to write it down.

The spare bedroom, on the other hand, was devoid of any of those touches. The walls were still pale white and plain blinds hung over the windows. They hadn’t hung up any pictures or brought in any of their own personal items here. Not like they had with the rest of the house.

Eddie now brought some of his books into the second bedroom as well as one of the pictures of him and Richie that he had decided to leave out. Eddie moved some of his clothes as well, shoving them into the dresser that already held some of his workout gear. He only hoped that Richie wouldn’t question the fact that most of Eddie’s clothes were still in the master bedroom. Truth be told, Eddie was too tired to even attempt to move every single one of his belongings, so this would have to do. At least the master bedroom was much larger and had way more closet space than the spare bedroom, so perhaps Eddie’s things being in the former wouldn’t look too out of place.

Actually, the only thing that Richie probably wouldn’t buy was the fact that his own laptop was in ‘Eddie’s’ room. Richie had habits that were a bit out of the ordinary. He would sometimes stay up until all hours working on material, and he would often get up in the middle of the night when the inspiration happened to strike him. There was no way in hell Eddie would tolerate Richie clicking away on his laptop at ungodly hours when he was trying to sleep, so why would he let Richie work in his room at all? It didn’t make any goddamn sense and Richie would know that immediately.

But still…Eddie couldn’t bring himself to move or even touch Richie’s laptop. It was one of the very last things he had touched before half of his memories had been stolen from him, and Eddie felt like it would be wrong to put it elsewhere. It still sat there, open on the desk in the corner just as Richie had left it, and that was the way it would stay for him.

A tiny part of Eddie felt the urge to sit down at the desk and wake up Richie’s computer. To take a look at the very last thing he had been working on before everything had been ripped away from them. But no. That was for Richie’s eyes only. At least for right now. Eddie was always the first one to read Richie’s material anyway, but that was only when Richie was at least somewhat happy with it. Richie was the only one to see his first drafts, and Eddie would respect that.

That was when Eddie glanced down at his hands and realized that his and Richie’s wedding rings were still on the ring and index finger of his left hand respectively. Richie hadn’t seemed to notice them yet, but he had so much more on his mind right now than what jewelry Eddie happened to be wearing. Eddie ran his right thumb over Richie’s ring, wondering if it was time to remove it, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that either.

Eddie thought back to that night in the emergency room when he had first been allowed to see Richie after the attack. He had fished Richie’s ring out of the plastic bag the emergency staff had shoved it in and had settled it on his index finger where it sat perfectly. Eddie had told Richie that he was going to wear it and keep it safe until he could put it back on Richie’s finger. None of the most recent turn of events changed that. Not Richie’s memory loss or the fact that he didn’t even know they were married. Eddie was going to keep Richie’s ring there, and if Richie happened to notice it at some point, then Eddie would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Two of their most important material possessions were their rings, and Eddie wanted to keep them exactly where they were, consequences be damned. Who the fuck knew? Maybe even seeing the rings on Eddie’s fingers would spark something in Richie’s memory, because the doctors seemed almost positive of that fact.

In fact, it seemed as if everyone was sure of these things except for Eddie.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie entered Richie’s hospital room nearly an hour later, Richie’s face immediately lit up. Ben, Beverly, and Mike were seated around his bed, but it seemed as if they didn’t even exist to Richie; his eyes were fixed only on Eddie.

“Eds,” Richie said quietly, smiling warmly. “You came back.”

“And our company isn’t good enough for you anymore?” Beverly asked good-naturedly. “We fly halfway across the country to see you, and this is the thanks we get.”

“You’re only one step above my shadow out there,” Richie replied, gesturing to the guard that the police had posted outside his door.

The daytime guard, Adam was nice enough, but he was there for one reason and one reason only – to provide protection for Richie. He remained outside Richie’s door and followed Richie whenever they made him take a walk around the hallways to stretch his legs and monitor his mobility. Despite Richie’s numerous attempts to engage the man in conversation or even get him to laugh or crack a smile, he never got very far. Adam was simply more interested in keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, which Eddie appreciated; it meant he was serious about his job and was trying to limit any distractions, but he just wasn’t the sort of person that Richie would pick to hang out with. God forbid someone didn’t fall over in laughter at every crack Richie made, or at least banter with him over it.

Eddie thought the police protection had been nice while it lasted, but Richie wasn’t keen on the idea of continuing it once he went home. He said it would be weird to have a virtual stranger around their home. Eddie didn’t necessarily disagree with that, but at the same time, he liked the effect that the guards had on Richie; he seemed a lot calmer and relaxed whenever they were around. Eddie wasn’t sure what would happen once they went home, but Detective Bannerman reassured them that any time Richie changed his mind, the police protection could be reinstated. At least they still had the option there if they wanted it.

The thought of Richie perhaps being home alone scared the shit out of Eddie. Eddie had managed to take some time off of work while Richie started his healing, but he’d have to go back sooner or later. The other Losers were going to stay in town for a while and help out for a while, but they’d eventually have to go back home as well. What would Richie do if something happened when he was alone?

Since Richie was still prone to panic attacks, who would be there to hold him and talk to him while he calmed down? What if something happened with Richie’s injury, and there was no one there to help him? Even though the doctors said it was perfectly safe for Richie to return home and even be on his own at times, Eddie was still terrified that something, anything could happen to him.

Meanwhile, Richie was scared to death that whoever had done this to him would come back to finish the job. All the more reason for the guard to remain, but Eddie wasn’t going to try and change his mind. He knew that what Richie needed now more than ever was to feel supported and like his feelings were valid; if he didn’t want a guard hanging around the house, then Eddie would respect his wishes.

Eddie had gotten the lock on the door fixed and changed, and had the locksmith check the locks on all the windows. The house was as secure as he could make it on such short notice. Eddie really wanted to look into getting cameras set up around their property, but that would do fuck all if the assholes who attacked Richie decided to come back. They would be caught in the act, sure, and have pictures of the perpetrators to aid in the investigation, but they wouldn’t do anything for Richie in the moment.

More and more, Eddie kept coming back to the fact that Richie had wanted a dog all his life. Perhaps an animal companion would help with Richie’s anxiety, and provide them with a little bit of reassurance when Richie was home alone. Hell, if it wasn’t for the fact that Eddie would be stressing out over dog shit, and dirt, and germs, maybe it would help with his anxiety too.

But he would keep that information to himself until he decided for sure. He didn’t want to get Richie’s hopes up if Eddie ended up changing his mind again.

“I promised I’d come back,” Eddie said reassuringly, quickly going to Richie’s bedside. He reached out, letting Richie thread their fingers together, which they had been doing more and more over the last few days.

Whenever Richie seemed like he was getting the least bit scared or upset, he almost always reached out for Eddie’s hand if they weren’t already touching. It was such a simple gesture, one that they had already engaged in hundreds upon hundreds of times during the course of their relationship, but they both seemed to find it comforting nonetheless. Despite the fact that their lives had been turned upside-down, at least their need to touch each other never seemed to waver. That was what Eddie wanted right now – to feel some sort of habit and consistency in the whirlwind that had upended their lives.

“I was just getting things ready for you at home,” Eddie continued. “Making sure things were clean, and put away, and…making sure there was food in the cupboards, since I haven’t been there in days.” Eddie sniffled before he added, “And we brought you a change of clothes.” Eddie held up the small gym bag he had in his free hand and said, “Unless, of course, you want to wear that ugly ass hospital gown home from the hospital.”

Richie’s face didn’t quite morph into a smile like Eddie thought it might; instead, Richie’s expression turned into one of almost-pain which Eddie was coming to recognize as a signal that Richie was remembering something. Something buried deep down in the depths of his mind that was now rushing to the surface.

“Wait a minute,” Richie said, recognition flashing across his field of vision. “You told me that the hospital gown was an improvement over my regular wardrobe. You said you wanted to see if I could get a couple. Now you’re changing your mind. I knew you loved my Hawaiian shirts, you liar.” Richie snorted and shifted on his bed, completely unaware of what he had just said.

“Rich…” Eddie gasped out. He shook his head, because he couldn’t quite believe how easily some of Richie’s memories seemed to be coming back to him. And Richie didn’t even seem to realize it – like it was an automatic action, like breathing or blinking. “I told you that when you were in a medically-induced coma. You…you remember that?”

Richie blinked up at him, like he didn’t quite believe what Eddie was telling him. “Yeah,” Richie replied. “I…you really said that while I was sleeping?” He squinted in thought, like he was trying to figure out some complicated math problem.

“I did.”

Falling into silence, Richie stared off at the far corner of the room, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

It was perhaps a good thing that Richie had chosen to be quiet for once in his life, because Eddie’s thoughts were running rampant. Eddie had said a _lot_ of things while Richie had been asleep, talking about their wedding and their relationship most of all. If Richie remembered some off-hand remark about his clothing of all things, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what else he may remember.

And what he may think about it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the Losers proposed a small welcome home party at Richie and Eddie’s, but Richie had ended up declining. He said he was tired and he had a headache. Honestly, Eddie was glad. He thought it was going to be a lot for Richie coming back to a home that he didn’t even remember, and it was probably best for him to take it easy on his first night out of the hospital anyway. There would be all the time in the world for parties later.

“Do you want to get some takeout?” Eddie asked as he steered his Cadillac through the streets. “Anything you want, my treat.”

Richie didn’t answer right away, but then he said, “I don’t know. I’m…not really all that hungry. I’m mostly tired. Maybe just some soup or something later?”

“Okay,” Eddie whispered, even though something about Richie’s tone made him feel uneasy.

Maybe he really was remembering something else that Eddie had said while he had been asleep, and he didn’t know what to do with that information. Perhaps he was realizing that things that had happened during his medically-induced coma hadn’t necessarily been a dream or the product of his head injury and pain meds.

“You hate takeout anyway,” Richie said.

It was true; it was so hard for Eddie to find healthy places to eat at, let alone a menu that accommodated his diet and allergies. It was just easier for him to buy and make everything where he could be sure of the things going in his body. But for Richie, Eddie would make a sacrifice every now and again.

Like the night of Richie’s attack when Eddie had stopped at that Mexican place to make up for being so late getting home. To make up for the fact that he wasn’t home when some assholes were trying to bash Richie’s brains in.

“Sometimes,” Eddie responded, “but it’s not everyday you come home from the hospital.”

“I guess.” Richie diverted his gaze to his window and didn’t say anything more. Didn’t even seem to want to look at Eddie during the rest of their ride home.

Eddie kept furtively glancing over at his husband, desperately wanting to reach out for his hand. They did that a lot – drove with one hand while holding hands over the console. It was everything Eddie could do to keep his hands to himself, so he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

When Eddie pulled into their driveway, Richie still hadn’t said anything more. He was sitting and staring at their front door like he had never seen it before, his hands twisting into what looked like a painful ball, and that hurt Eddie’s heart.

“Remember this at all?” Eddie asked tentatively, still straining to keep his hands on the steering wheel.

Richie shook his head miserably, then finally turned his gaze to Eddie. Richie was frowning deeply and truth be told, he looked miserable. Eddie only wished to god that he could do something for this man sitting next to him that he loved so very much. He would give anything to be going through this instead of Richie. His beautiful, amazing, loving husband who had never done anything to anyone. Except make stupid jokes about them.

“Maybe the inside will look more familiar,” Eddie said, getting out of the car, because he was having a hard time sitting next to Richie and not touching him.

Not that they had shied away from touching in the hospital, but Eddie wondered if it was appropriate now that they were home. Maybe Richie wanted to try and stand on his own two feet now that he wasn’t lying prone in a hospital bed any longer.

Eddie reached into the backseat, withdrawing Richie’s gym bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Richie, meanwhile, had gotten out of the car as well and was staring at the house like the door might open and swallow him whole.

And then all at once, it occurred to Eddie exactly why Richie was so uncomfortable, and he felt like a major idiot for not realizing it sooner. This was where Richie had been attacked, and even if he couldn’t completely remember the location itself, he may be having flashes of that night in particular. His anxiety was probably running rampant, even if he was trying not to let on.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Eddie hurried around the car and wrapped an arm around Richie’s waist. He didn’t know if he was overstepping his bounds, but Eddie wanted Richie to know that he was supported, pretenses be damned.

“I’m here,” Eddie said encouragingly. “You’re not alone and you’re safe.”

Richie let out a heavy breath and relaxed into Eddie a bit. Encouraged by this, Eddie tightened his grip around Richie, although he wondered if that was a bit too much. Richie, however, didn’t protest and didn’t pull away as they made their way up the steps to the front door.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat as he put his key in the lock, but he tried not to let it show. It certainly wouldn’t help Richie’s anxiety to know that Eddie was on the verge of having a panic attack himself. Truth be told, Eddie didn’t ever think that opening the front door would _not_ give him flashbacks to that night – opening the door to his husband lying in a pool of his own blood was probably one of the most horrific things he had ever witnessed.

Even more so than some of the shit that Pennywise had shown him, and that was saying something.

Eddie led Richie over the threshold, immediately reaching for the light switch with his free hand. Eddie really should have had the foresight to leave at least one light on, considering the fact that it was starting to get dark outside already. Coming home to a darkened house probably wasn’t a good thing for Richie’s state of mind right now.

Eddie only hoped to god that seeing the place on the floor where he had nearly bled to death wouldn’t bring any flashbacks to Richie right now. Richie just needed a place where he could feel safe, and the last thing Eddie wanted was for the home they shared to give Richie a panic attack right off the bat.

When light flooded the entryway, Richie blinked, letting his eyes adjust. He didn’t seem to recognize it or be overcome with any sort of panic, which was both a win and a lose in Eddie’s mind. Of course he didn’t want Richie to be thrown into a panic, but he just wished that something, anything would look familiar to Richie.

“Recognize anything yet?” Eddie asked quietly, leading Richie into the hallway. Eddie took a moment to shut and lock the door, because that was the way he liked it, and probably the way Richie would like it from now on.

Richie shook his head again, turning back to watch Eddie’s movements, like he was afraid to let the other man out of his sight. Eddie supposed he couldn’t blame him.

“It’s okay,” Eddie said, placing a hand on Richie’s shoulder. He led Richie farther down the hallway, gesturing to the living room on their right. “Do you want to watch TV for a while? We…we used to do that a lot.”

Richie scrunched up his face before pressing a hand over his eyes. “My head really hurts. Can…I just want to sleep right now.”

“Yes,” Eddie said, “of course.” He guided Richie through the hallway, past the point where Richie had been lying in a pool of his own blood, and into the kitchen. “Whatever you want, okay? Just say the word.”

When Richie didn’t reply, Eddie set Richie’s bag down on one of the barstools. He unzipped it and started sorting through it, looking for Richie’s pain pills. “Do you need your meds?” Eddie asked unnecessarily, because Richie was flinching in pain more and more.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, withdrawing the bottle of pills and then getting a glass down from one of the cupboards. “The…your bedroom is through there,” Eddie told him, gesturing to the hallway that led towards the back of the house. “First door straight ahead. Why don’t you go lay down and I’ll bring your meds in?”

Richie took only one step past the refrigerator before he froze in his tracks. His eyes widened before his breathing grew harsh.

Jesus, why was Eddie so fucking stupid? Why was he trying to make Richie do things before he was clearly ready? When he was still struggling so much?

“Oh, shit,” Eddie said, immediately setting the glass and pill bottle down on the counter before hurrying over to Richie. “I’m sorry.” He placed his hand on Richie’s back again, rubbing small circles over the fabric of his hideous Hawaiian shirt. “Just…stay right there.”

“Don’t…don’t make me go in there alone,” Richie whispered, turning his wide-eyed gaze to Eddie. “It…it’s dark. Anyone could be in there.”

“No, I know,” Eddie said, moving his hand to Richie’s shoulder instead. He pulled Richie into his side, now rubbing his hand up and down Richie’s arm. “Shit, I’m sorry I’m such an idiot. I won’t make you go in there alone. Just tell me to use my fucking brain when I tell you to do stupid shit.”

Eddie had been hoping that Richie would latch onto Eddie’s attempt to make a joke, to get Richie to poke fun at him, but only silence met his ears. Richie was still staring straight ahead into the darkened hallway, almost like he might be remembering something, but not quite. The expression of his face was only one of abject fear, not of recognition.

“Here, wait here,” Eddie said before slowly releasing his hold on Richie. His hands were trembling as he fumbled with Richie’s pill bottle, opening it and shaking out two tablets into the cap. He then filled up the glass with water from the refrigerator before holding them out for Richie.

Richie robotically put the pills in his mouth before swallowing them and chasing them down with a gulp of water. He set the half-empty glass down on the island counter before turning to Eddie like he didn’t know what to do next.

“Come on,” Eddie said quietly, wrapping his arm around Richie again. He flipped the hallway light switch on before leading Richie back towards the bedroom. _Richie’s_ bedroom.

Eddie made a mental note about the way he still thought of the master bedroom as being ‘theirs’ or simply ‘the bedroom’. It wouldn’t do for Eddie to slip and make Richie question their sleeping arrangements. Or to catch onto the fact that he and Eddie _used_ to share the same bed.

When they reached _Richie’s_ room and Eddie turned the lights on there as well, Richie stood staring at it like it was a fucking alien lifeform.

A tiny part of Eddie was terrified that Richie might remember something about their relationship. About the many times they had made love, and kissed, and touched each other so tenderly under the covers. At the same time, however, Eddie wondered what would happen if Richie did remember those things. Would he be terrified, disgusted by the possibility, or would he be thrilled by the idea like Bill had suggested? Thrilled by the possibility that he and Eddie had been in a relationship together.

Jesus, what if?

Eddie left Richie standing in the doorway and crossed the room to the bed, starting to pull the sheets down and fluff up the pillow. “Nice fresh sheets,” Eddie said, “just came out of the wash this afternoon. That’s always the best feeling, isn’t it?”

Richie didn’t reply but simply nodded his head at Eddie’s words. A moment later, Richie reached out to start unbuttoning the Hawaiian shirt he had on – bright blue with orange and yellow tropical fish.

Dear god, why did Richie always choose these horrendous color combinations?

Richie only got halfway through the buttons before he unceremoniously pulled it off over his head and tossed it on the bed. Richie was left wearing black sweatpants and a pale yellow t-shirt, which he apparently decided to wear to bed. It was exactly what Eddie had intended, because he rather doubted that Richie even felt like changing his clothes in his current state. He toed off his shoes before sluggishly making his way over to the bed. He dropped down heavily onto the mattress, immediately lying down and curling up in the spot that Eddie had cleared for him.

Eddie pulled the covers up, tucking them tightly around Richie so that he’d feel as warm and safe as possible. Eddie gently sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching up to push a few strands of Richie’s hair from his forehead.

“We’ll have to check your bandages when you wake up,” Eddie said. He gently patted his hand around the back of Richie’s head, checking to make sure that the bandages weren’t wet. Richie’s bleeding had long subsided by that point, but they were under strict instructions to monitor Richie’s injury closely for the next week to make sure that it stayed that way.

Eddie longed to run his fingers through the locks at the back of Richie’s head, but that was something he could no longer do. The doctors had shaved that particular spot in order to clean up the wound, and there was no longer anything there for Eddie to thread his fingers through. Not to mention, the bandages were covering that particular spot anyway, so it was off limits for the time being. Eddie wasn’t even sure if such a gesture would cause Richie pain or not, considering his headaches and pain there. Eddie just knew that it was something that had always seemed to comfort Richie in the past, and that was all Eddie wanted right now.

Richie slowly rolled over onto his back, staring up at Eddie. “Can…I mean…will you leave the light on?”

“Of course,” Eddie replied, still fingering the locks of hair emerging from Richie’s bandages. “The light isn’t aggravating your headache?”

Richie shook his head slowly, softly, like the very movement was causing him pain. “No,” he whispered, his eyes already drifting shut. “I…I don’t want it to be dark.”

“It won’t be,” Eddie said. “I’ll keep it on. Promise. And I’ll just be in the living room watching TV, okay?”

Richie’s eyes flew open at that and he said, “You won’t…you’re not going to leave me here, are you?”

“No!” Eddie said in a harsh whisper, not wanting to exacerbate Richie’s headache in any way. “No, I’ll be right out in the living room. I just…want to watch TV for a little while and I don’t want to disturb you. I’ll be right out there when you wake up.” Eddie pointed towards the bedroom door and added, “Through the kitchen and hang a left – the room we passed on the way in. Remember?”

Richie nodded sleepily.

“Unless I go to the bathroom,” Eddie said. “That’s right across the hall from the living room, okay?”

“Okay, yeah,” Richie whispered, and he had started to slur his words. Either his pain meds where kicking in or else Richie was extremely tired and achy. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. “Yeah, don’t piss on the floor, because I’m not cleaning up after your ass.” There was a very small smile on Richie’s lips as he fell into silence.

One of Richie’s hands was laying on top of the blanket, which Eddie immediately wrapped his fingers around. It warmed his heart slightly to know that he and Richie were already coming to have new inside jokes with each other. Building new memories just like he had talked to Bill about that afternoon. That things between Eddie and Richie were slowly but surely returning to normal despite everything they had been through. Despite everything they still had yet to encounter in the coming days and weeks.

When Eddie was sure Richie had fallen asleep, he quietly got up from the bed and made his way back out into the living room. He sighed heavily as he sunk into the couch, immediately lying down and curling up much like Richie had done in their bed. In _his_ bed.

Eddie had said that he’d wanted to watch TV for a while, but he didn’t even have the energy to reach for the remote control on the coffee table in front of him. He simply closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing in order to calm himself, but for all the good it did. Sobs had erupted inside of him and were spilling out before he could scarcely even process it. Tears were streaming across the bridge of his nose and down his left cheek, soaking into the couch cushion beneath him. He could feel snot dripping down his upper lip too, but he didn’t even care. Eddie was way past the point of caring about much.

He was just so fucking tired and he missed Richie. Fuck, he missed his Richie like he was sure he would miss air if he was trapped underwater. He missed being able to curl up with Richie under the covers and snuggle up to him. He missed kissing him and lying in his arms while they fell asleep together.

He missed the happy-go-lucky pain in the ass that he used to be married to, and a part of Eddie wondered if he would ever have that person back. And Eddie was pretty sure that was probably a really shitty thing to think about – how much Richie had changed and how much Eddie missed the _old_ Richie.

Why was Eddie such a shitty husband? Maybe if he’d been better, if he’d been home like he wanted to be instead of focusing on his work, none of this ever would have happened to Richie at all. Richie would be safe, and happy, and whole, and they’d be lying on the couch together, snuggling and laughing at stupid shit on TV. Instead, Eddie was lying here alone, drenched in his own fucking tears and snot, and perhaps that was what he deserved right now. It was exactly what he deserved after what he had let happen to his beloved partner.

Eddie eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep, tossing, and turning, and wiping absently at his tears and snot as he continued to cry.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but the next time he opened his eyes, it was completely dark in the room. The only light was from the hallway behind him and from the pale moonlight dripping in through the window and throwing itself across the carpet.

Eddie didn’t even know what had awakened him. Had there been a loud noise of some sort that had roused him out of sleep? He thought so, but his mind had been too sleep-clogged to be able to register it properly. But then he heard it again, the same thing he knew had awoken him in the first place – an ear-piercing scream from the bedroom – _Richie’s_ bedroom. Eddie bolted up like a shock of lightning had gone through him, and a moment later, something crashed loudly, sounding like it had shattered to pieces on the floor.

“RICHIE!” Eddie screamed, stumbling over his own two feet like an idiot before he flew across the living room, rounded the corner, and barreled down the hallway.

Eddie’s only thought was his husband and what in god’s name he was going to find once he made it to Richie’s room.

_To be continued…_


	10. Three Little Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Considering the fact that the last chapter took so long, I thought you guys deserved another quick update. The idea for this chapter came so naturally after the last one, so I didn’t have to spend very much time plotting it at all. This is one of my favorite chapters in this story so far, and the good stuff is only getting started. I hope you enjoy it too!

Richie waited until Eddie left him alone before he opened his eyes and turned over onto his side. He sighed heavily and stared out the window at the steadily darkening sky beyond. Despite the fact that the overhead light was on in the bedroom, it was still too ridiculously dark outside. Too black, and foreboding, and anyone could be out there. Anyone could be lurking in the shadows, waiting until he was alone. Waiting until he was asleep and no longer on his guard.

He’d wanted nothing more than to ask Eddie to stay with him while he slept, but he couldn’t quite do that. He was a grown ass man and he felt stupid for wanting someone with him _all the time_. He should at least be able to take a nap by himself without troubling Eddie to sit and watch him. Eddie didn’t deserve to be his fucking babysitter.

The last thing Richie wanted was to go to sleep, to make himself vulnerable to whoever was out there, but oh god. His head was pounding so very hard, and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes against it. That sensation of dizziness had also settled into his head, signifying that his meds were starting to kick in. He could feel his eyelids growing heavier with each passing second and it wasn’t very long before Richie lost his battle to stay awake entirely.

The next time Richie awoke, the light in his room had been shut off, and goddamn it. Eddie had said that he would leave the light on for Richie, and Richie knew that he wouldn’t have turned it off. Had the light burned out? Rolling over onto his back, Richie glanced to his right, to the hallway that led to the kitchen beyond. It was completely dark out there too, and Richie didn’t think Eddie would have turned them all off. Not when Richie made it explicitly clear that he didn’t like being in the dark right now. Had the power gone out?

“Fuck,” Richie muttered under his breath, reaching out for his glasses on the bedside table. As soon as he got them on his face, that was when he heard it – the floorboards creaking on the other side of the room. Richie squinted into the darkness, desperately trying to make out a shape, to recognize _anything_. _Anyone_.

“Eds?” Richie asked, and he hated the way his voice shook. Hated the way _he_ was shaking, like a scared and stupid little kid. Swallowing, Richie backed up against the headboard behind him, trying to put some distance between himself and whoever was in his room, because he knew _someone_ was.

Knew someone was there as surely as he knew he’d never feel for anyone else the things he felt for Eddie. Richie wasn’t even sure how or why they’d ended up _living_ together, because fuck, this was hard. He’d only been home with Eddie for maybe an hour at the most, and Richie already felt like he was losing his mind. How in the hell had they lived together platonically for going on a _whole fucking year_? Why in god’s name had Richie ever agreed to this shit?

But in the end, he knew why. It was why Richie had never admitted his feelings to Eddie in the first place – because he’d rather have Eddie as a friend than not have him in his life at all. And Richie was well aware of the fact that Eddie would probably hate his guts if Richie ever admitted his feelings. Admitted the way he watched Eddie when Richie thought he wasn’t looking. The way he desperately wanted to lean over and kiss Eddie whenever they stood close together.

Moving in with Eddie when Richie’s feelings were running rampant like this was a really shitty thing to do. Didn’t he owe it to Eddie to disclose his feelings _before_ they got this far in their living arrangements? Best friends didn’t do that to each other.

Richie couldn’t remember anything about their adult lives spent together. The entire year and a half since Pennywise completely lost to him. A fucking _year and a half_ of his life was gone, swallowed up by that black hole in his head. But Richie was pretty sure he had never found it easy to try and hide his feelings for Eddie like this on a day-to-day basis.

Now though, it was probably even worse than before. Not only did Richie have to mask his feelings for his best friend, but he felt like he had to hide everything else he was feeling too. Richie already felt like such a burden to Eddie, and he knew Eddie had to be getting sick of him. Who wants to have the burden of a fucking amnesiac and anxious _friend_ like Richie to have to take care of every day of their lives?

Eddie didn’t deserve this and he didn’t deserve to have Richie secretly lusting after him. Jesus Christ, but Richie was fucked up.

Richie was shaken from his thoughts, however, when he became aware of heavy breathing coming from somewhere in the dark. He’d been so wrapped up in his feelings for Eddie, Richie had almost forgotten that there was someone in here with him. How did Eddie manage to have that effect on him?

Richie had no explanation except for the fact that he was totally head-over-heels in love with Eddie. Always had been, always would be, and it was easy to get lost in those thoughts sometimes. Easy to feel stupid around the strong and beautiful man that he’d never be able to bury his feelings for. Even though Eddie would tell him that he was stupid all the time.

Digging his heels into the mattress, Richie tried to push himself away again, but then he realized that his legs were tied up in the sheets of the bed. They were twisted around his ankles like killer plants reaching out to get him like in some old horror movie.

Despite his best efforts to try and contain it, Richie could feel himself screaming, an ear-piercing noise being ripped from his throat that he couldn’t have contained if his life had depended on it. And perhaps it did, because now whoever was in his room knew Richie was there too. Knew that Richie was a sitting duck with his legs tied up with the fucking bedsheets.

Then it felt like the end of the mattress dipped down, and Richie knew that the person in his room was coming for him. Richie reached down, clawing at the sheets to try and remove them, but it was useless. _He_ was useless, just like he had been when those assholes had bashed his head in in the first place.

And there was that hat – that fucking LA Dodgers hat that Richie was really coming to hate. It swam into his field of vision from somewhere in the dark, and he could see those bright white letters standing out on it like fucking beacons. Only not the good kind.

A moment later, there were hands reaching out in the dark for him. Reaching out and throwing him back towards the mattress. Richie went, the pain in his head exploding all over again when he hit the pillow. Richie could feel the hands curling around his throat then, slowly pressing down and gradually cutting off his air supply.

Richie kicked out again, but it was no use. His legs were still wrapped up in the sheets, and now the intruder was sitting on top of them. Richie clawed at the hands around his throat, desperately trying to pull them away, but he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t do anything to protect himself, just like he couldn’t on that night when his entire life had been ripped from him.

With every last ounce of energy, Richie let out another shrill scream and threw his arms out to his sides. He was looking for something, anything to defend himself with, but the only thing he could reach was the lamp on the bedside table. Richie grabbed for it, but his fingers were much too slick with sweat to get a grasp on the polished porcelain. He only succeeded in pushing the lamp farther from his reach before he could hear it crashing to the floor in the dark.

And then pain exploded up Richie’s back and he whined quietly, closing his eyes against everything. Against the intruder in his room, the pain rippling up from his hips, and world in general.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie flew into Richie’s room, he had to grab onto the doorjamb in order to steady himself. It took him a moment to take in the scene, to let his eyes adjust to the overhead light in here as opposed to the darkness he’d been in in the living room.

The sheets and covers were twisted up into what looked like a huge knot on the now empty bed. The lamp on Richie’s side of the bed had been knocked to the floor and was laying in a pile of shattered glass and porcelain. Meanwhile, Richie was sitting on the floor with his back up against the side of the bed, his knees pulled up to his chest. His head was buried against his knees, his arms wrapped around it like he was trying to shut out the world. He was shaking and large drops of sweat – or perhaps even tears – were standing out against his skin.

“Rich?” Eddie asked quietly, not wanting to scare Richie if he wasn’t quite awake yet. Eddie stepped farther into the room, letting go of the doorframe as he went. When Richie didn’t reply or seem to take any notice of him, Eddie again asked, “Richie?”

When his question still went unanswered, Eddie went to Richie on shaking legs. Eddie dropped to his knees at his husband’s side, gently laying his hand on Richie’s shoulder. “Richie?” Eddie asked, a little louder this time.

Richie started and lifted his head up slightly, but still didn’t look at Eddie. He stared straight ahead at some random spot on the wall, but not quite seeming to process it. Richie was breathing so very hard, like he had just run a mile. He still didn’t look at Eddie.

“Hey, Richie?” Eddie said. “It’s me. It’s Eds. I’m here and you’re safe. Okay? It’s just us.” Eddie paused to swallow, because his mouth felt ridiculously dry, like he had been on that mile run with Richie. “Can you look at me please?”

Richie finally blinked and tore his eyes away from the wall. He looked in Eddie’s direction, but it seemed to take a few seconds before he realized what he was looking at. When he blinked again, recognition and what Eddie hoped was relief filled his eyes. “E-Eds?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, laying his other hand on Richie’s far shoulder. He took a moment to rearrange his legs underneath him, sitting down on the floor next to Richie now. “I’m here, okay? You’re safe.” When Richie didn’t say anything more, Eddie tentatively asked, “Did…did you have another nightmare?”

Richie nodded mechanically and didn’t say anything more. He didn’t like to talk about his nightmares after the fact, and Eddie wouldn’t push him to again now, because it never ended well; it only served to make Richie shut down and try to push Eddie away again.

Looking away from Eddie, Richie’s eyes traveled across the floor until he saw the shattered lamp laying near his feet. Richie blinked at this too, like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first.

“I broke the lamp,” Richie said, and his voice was quivering, like he was on the verge of tears.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, in an attempt to calm Richie, but also out of complete honesty. “They’re leftover from your…from your old apartment.” Eddie had been about to say they were leftover from Richie’s bachelor life, and he almost had to bite at his lower lip in order to keep the words inside. “I don’t care. They’re fucking ugly, okay? And they don’t go with anything in here. We were only going to keep them until we got new ones, but we just never got around to it.” Eddie huffed out a quiet laugh before he added, “I suppose that was a good thing now. We have no choice but to get new ones.”

Richie kept staring at the lamp like he was looking at a dead body. Like he had seen someone die in front of him. But then when he spoke again, he strangely almost sounded like his old self. “Are you saying I have bad taste?” He threw his eyes to Eddie, and they were dancing like they did when he knew he and Eddie were about to banter.

“Fuck yeah, you do,” Eddie immediately retorted. “The worst.” He glanced back at the bed and found Richie’s hideous tropical fish shirt intertwined in the covers. Fishing it out, he held it up for Richie to see. “Look at this shit. And you have the nerve to ask me if you have bad taste.”

“What are you talking about?” Richie cried, pulling his shirt from Eddie’s fingers. “I love this shirt. It’s one of my favorites.” He wrapped his hands tightly in the material and held it up to his chest like it comforted him.

“I know,” Eddie said. “That’s why I brought it for you to wear home.”

“Did you ever wonder if, just maybe, _you’re_ the one that has bad taste?”

“Never.”

“Because you are.”

“Fuck off.”

Richie straightened his legs out a little bit and took a deep breath, like bantering with Eddie had calmed him significantly. Letting his shirt drop to his lap, sandwiched in between his thighs and stomach, Richie stared at it in silence, his fingers still wrapped up in the material.

Eddie bit at his bottom lip, desperately wanting to get back to the topic at hand, but not sure how to. Again, Richie never liked to talk about these things, but it was becoming painfully obvious to Eddie that he needed to eventually. The more Richie tried to push away his feelings and pretend they didn’t exist, the more the experience seemed to affect him.

“Rich?” Eddie asked quietly, running his hand up and down Richie’s upper arm. “Are you okay?” Eddie flinched at his question, because Richie was clearly not all right. Not at all. “I mean…do you want to talk about it?”

Richie shrugged, an action that was much too fast. Too automatic.

“You don’t have to,” Eddie said, not wanting Richie to feel pressured into anything. “I’m not going to force you to talk about anything you don’t want to. But…you can, you know? I’m…I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Richie sighed, his eyes still locked on that shirt in his lap. “I know. I just…you _know_ what’s wrong. You _know_ what I’m having nightmares about. You _know_ what…what I’m afraid of. So what’s the point in talking about it?”

“It can help,” Eddie told him. “Believe me, I know.”

Eddie shifted again, leaning up against the bed like Richie was, but still fully facing Richie. Fully giving Richie his attention. He let his hand drift down to Richie’s forearm, resting it there instead. He wasn’t sure if Richie would shake it off or not, but in the end, he didn’t. Eddie loved touching Richie there, loved the feel of Richie’s arm underneath his fingers, the way the hair there brushed against Eddie’s skin.

Eddie leaned his head into the mattress, not taking his eyes from Richie. “I don’t know if you remember, but Myra had me fucked up six ways from Sunday.”

Frowning momentarily, Richie asked, “She was like your mother, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. “An exact clone actually, more or less. It was fucked up. I divorced her, and when I moved in with you, I was still doing shit that _Myra_ would have made me do.”

Eddie paused to take a deep breath, because they were treading into unknown territory here. They were venturing into things that Richie didn’t remember, and Eddie always fretted over what else these things might trigger. Over what memories they might stir up in Richie and the way he might react to them.

“I asked your permission for shit,” Eddie said around a heavy breath. “I asked if it was okay to look for a job out here. If you thought the job I wanted was okay to take. I asked if it was okay to buy shit for the house. To bring certain things from home. Because _Myra_ always had the last word on _everything_. I…I had to do those things with her. If _she_ didn’t want me to have something, if _she_ didn’t want me to do something, I listened…most of the time. I was terrified of what would happen if I didn’t.”

Eddie opened his mouth, fully intending to keep going, but he forced himself to stop. Forced himself to stop before he said entirely too much, but in the end, he decided to throw caution to the wind. Eddie kept thinking about Bill’s words, about how he thought that Richie still carried a torch for Eddie. If that was even remotely true, then didn’t Eddie owe it to Richie to hint at that fact? Richie was still his husband, and didn’t he deserve to know if he wasn’t alone in his feelings if, in fact, they were still there?

Eddie thought back to his very first kiss with Richie. When they stood on the cliff at the top of the quarry, and Eddie had pushed himself up on his tiptoes to kiss the man he had realized was the love of his life. Eddie’s heart had been pounding so fast, and he had been so scared. It was by far the bravest thing he had ever done in his life – even more so than anything involving Pennywise – and it had turned out to be the best decision he’d ever made. If he could work up the courage to do that in the face of the uncertainty he felt at the time, then he could find the courage somewhere to be a little more honest with Richie about his feelings now, couldn’t he?

“Myra didn’t even want me to come back to Derry,” Eddie finally admitted. “Didn’t want me to…see all of you again.” He forced out a breath of air, which he meant to be calming, but he felt anything but. “Like you were all a threat to our marriage or something.”

Richie snorted. “Well, we kind of were. ‘Cause your dumbass decided that moving in with me was the best course of action.”

“And it was,” Eddie agreed. “I didn’t realize until I got here, until I got away from her just how much I let her control every aspect of my life. How much I let her make decisions for me.”

“You’re…you’re a grown man,” Richie said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re allowed to do what you want.”

“I know that now,” Eddie agreed, “but I didn’t then. I was so used to _her_. So used to my mother. They…conditioned me, you know? Made me believe that I had to get other people’s opinions, other people’s _permission_ when I wanted to do something. I know that’s unhealthy now, but it took me a long time to learn that. Or rather to _un_ learn the things they taught me. You helped me with that.”

Richie finally met his eyes, glancing up from the shirt he was still fingering in his lap. “I did?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. You told me that you wanted me to think of this place as…a fresh start. A…place of freedom. That when I stepped over that threshold, my mother and Myra weren’t allowed any farther. I was allowed to be my own person here and not just an extension of them. Not even…an extension of you.”

“And you shouldn’t be,” Richie said. His brow was furrowed, like there was something that was just outside his realm of understanding. Just outside his memory. “You’re your own person. You shouldn’t…exist in order to make someone else happy.” Richie suddenly heaved out a sigh, leaning his head back against the edge of the mattress behind him. He blinked up at the ceiling, and if Eddie wasn’t mistaken, thought he could see his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “And look at what I’ve been doing to you since I woke up in the hospital.”

“Rich,” Eddie immediately replied, “that absolutely is not the point of my story! After what you’ve been through, you’re allowed to lean on me and ask for help. You know that, right? That’s what best friends are for.”

Richie hung his head, running his thumb over the shirt in his lap. “I guess.”

“You’re not…” Eddie began, but then he stopped, reconsidering his words carefully. He brought his free hand up, the one that wasn’t currently over Richie’s forearm, and cupped Richie’s cheek with it. He gently turned Richie’s head until their eyes met before he went on. “I told you in the hospital that I _want_ to help you. You don’t need to worry about me leaving or worry about asking too much of me, because that’s what I’m here for. And tell me you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if you were in my position.”

Richie smiled. It was a small and sad smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. “I would drive you _crazy_ with how everbearing I’d be.”

“I know,” Eddie said around a small laugh. He dropped his hand from Richie’s cheek a moment later, letting it drift to the back of Richie’s hand instead. Eddie hesitated for a moment, waiting to see if his hands on Richie’s arm would be thrown off, but they weren’t. “You already told me that you feel like you can do this if you have me, and I told you that you do. I’m going to be by your side for as long as it takes, no questions asked.”

Richie’s face scrunched up, those tears that Eddie had noticed before welling up again. Just one managed to escape Richie’s eye and spill down his cheek before he turned his hand over in Eddie’s. Richie threaded their fingers together, gripping Eddie’s hand as if for dear life. When he spoke again, his voice was shaking.

“And I need you,” Richie said. “I do. I need you so much.” He momentarily broke off to release a sob before he said, “For reasons that I can’t even begin to explain. In the hospital, I told you that I like being around you, but…that’s not all of it. That doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface, because…I feel so much better when I’m with you. You…make me feel whole in ways that I just don’t when you leave. And…despite what you may think, I actually am a lot calmer and relaxed when you’re here.” Richie forced out a laugh that he clearly didn’t feel. “Is that a fucked up way to feel about your best friend even considering the circumstances?”

“No!” Eddie exclaimed, shaking his head wildly. “No, because I actually feel the same way. Honestly? You’re…you’re my other half, and I wouldn’t have moved in here in the first place if I didn’t feel that way. Do you think I moved my shit all the across the country just for shits and giggles? Do you think I’d subject myself to your annoying ass if I didn’t genuinely enjoy your company?”

“I don’t know,” Richie said, even though there was a tiny smile playing about his lips. “I mean, you married Myra, so what does that say about your life choices?”

With his free hand, Eddie pushed lightly against Richie’s shoulder. “I’m not the same person I was when I married Myra. I’ve changed and grown so much since that frightened and meek man you met in the Jade of the Orient. Which brings me back to my original point, which you so rudely interrupted, jackass.”

A noise escaped from Richie, something between a snort of laughter and a sob. He quickly reached up with his free hand, swiping away the tear’s trail on his cheek. “Sorry.”

“Just…do you realize how much you’ve helped me grow into the man I am today?” Eddie asked. “And you did that, because you were there for me every step of the way. You and I both knew how much my mother and Myra fucked me up, but you listened to me when I needed to vent about it. You listened to me all the times I told you how scared I was to try and stand on my own two feet, because they had defined who I was for my entire life. I was _terrified_ to see who I was without them, because I didn’t feel like _anyone_. I felt like…just a shell. A husk of a person. And you…helped me find myself again. We stayed up late so many times, just talking about the shit they put me through, and you have no idea how much that helped me. How much you helped me find myself and the person I wanted to be. You helped me uncover that person that was buried so fucking far down, I didn’t think he’d ever see the light of day again. But here he is. Here _I_ am, because of you. Because you wouldn’t let me stay buried. So yes, talking about it does help. Very much so.”

“I know,” Richie said, staring down at his and Eddie’s hands clasped tightly together. “God, I know people should talk about their feelings, but…I’ve been hiding from them my whole life. It’s why I’m such a jackass most of the time – because it’s _easier_ than being honest about my feelings. Or maybe not easier, but…less scary?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “It’s where all of your jokes about fucking my mother stemmed from – because it was your way of hiding your sexuality. I know that now.”

Richie lifted his head, meeting Eddie’s eyes. They were big, and brown, and searching behind his glasses. “That wasn’t the only thing I was hiding.”

Neither of them said anything, neither of them moved for what felt like an eternity. Well, that was a lie, because Eddie’s heartrate had picked up and felt like it was going to pound a hole through his chest. Eddie wondered if Richie could hear it, it was so impossibly loud to his own ears. A lump had settled into Eddie’s throat, and he could feel drops of sweat forming along his skin. This made Eddie’s heart beat even faster, because what if Richie felt the sweat growing in between their clasped palms?

When Richie broke the silence nearly a minute later, it wasn’t quite what Eddie had been expecting to hear. Hell, it wasn’t what he was _hoping_ to hear either.

“I…I was using it to hide _everything_ , you know?” Richie said. “The entirety of who I was, just like your mother and Myra were doing to you.”

Eddie forced himself to nod, even though he had no idea what he was agreeing to. He wasn’t even sure why he felt a deep sense of disappointment settle into the middle of his chest. He had known it wouldn’t be that easy. He had known that from the moment Richie had come out of his coma and called Eddie his ‘bestie’. So why did it make Eddie’s chest hurt?

Richie was fingering the shirt in his lap with his free hand again, now staring at it so intently like it contained the answers he sought. “So yeah,” Richie sighed, “I know I should be honest about what I’m feeling. I mean, Jesus, it was terrifying to me when I didn’t know if I was out of the closet or not. It’s…so much more freeing knowing…I can be honest about who I am.”

Biting at his bottom lip, Richie diverted his gaze to the broken lamp at his feet, to the way the red porcelain reflected the light pouring down on them from the ceiling.

“And you _can_ be honest with me about who you are,” Eddie said when Richie didn’t continue on. “I’m…I’m your best friend and I’m always going to love you. No matter what you tell me.” Eddie sucked in a sharp breath, because he hadn’t quite intended to say those words. Not until they were out, but now they hung in the air between them. Hung there, spoken and irretrievable.

Eddie felt like he was flailing internally, throwing things at the wall to see what stuck, but nothing did. Because dear god, his oblivious husband sometimes had to be hit over the head with something before he realized what was right in front of his face.

“I just feel dumb, because I’m a grown man,” Richie muttered.

Instead of latching onto the words that Eddie thought might make him realize something, anything, Richie went right back to burying his head in the sand. Yeah, dumb was right.

“I don’t know,” Richie said around a sigh. “I just…I feel bad asking for things that I feel like I should be able to do on my own.”

“What sorts of things?” Eddie tried to push down that feeling that was still in his chest, like the moment between them where they had been on the verge of truly being honest with each other was gone forever. Gone and never coming back. “If you need help with anything, you can ask me.”

“It wasn’t _help_ exactly,” Richie said. When he met Eddie’s eyes again, his eyes were swimming now, his jaw quivering the tiniest bit. “It was…staying with me while I slept. I didn’t want to be alone. I told you, I feel safer when you’re with me.”

A sob escaped from Richie next, then another one, and before Eddie even realized it, they had turned into a string. One right after the other that Eddie could tell Richie was fighting to keep in, but couldn’t any longer. Couldn’t continue to hide what had been festering there for days.

“And I’m here,” Eddie said firmly. He leaned forward, reaching his free hand around Richie’s shoulders. It took a moment, but Richie finally relaxed against him while Eddie hugged him tightly. “Jesus, if you need me to stay in the same room while you sleep, I’ll do it. All you need to do is say the word. Please don’t be afraid to ask for _anything_.”

“But only…only little kids are…are afraid to sleep by themselves,” Richie hiccupped out. “Only little kids…and I didn’t even do that when I _was_ a little kid. Not even with Pennywise, because…you know. I couldn’t exactly ask my parents if I could sleep with them, because I was afraid of the fucking clown.”

Eddie’s hand instinctively went up to the back of Richie’s head, but all his fingers met were bandages. He gently ran his fingers along the gauzy material, waiting for Richie to flinch away or to tell him it was painful. When he did neither, Eddie said, “You’re allowed to ask for _anything_. It doesn’t make you weak, no matter what it is. You’re not a coward, okay? You helped beat the shit out of that fucking clown not just once, but twice, and you’re still so fucking brave now. You’re brave to keep putting one foot in front the other now, because I know you’re scared. And that’s okay. It’s…okay to _not_ be okay. And you don’t need to feel dumb or embarrassed to admit that, because I promise, I don’t think any less of you for it. You’re allowed to be scared, and you’re allowed to need help.”

Richie was still sobbing, but they had subsided slightly now. “You won’t…think I’m annoying or a nuisance? You’re won’t think I’m a pain in the ass?”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “You’ve been a pain in my ass since we were six years old. Why should that change anything now?”

It was Richie’s turn to laugh, his body shaking in Eddie’s arms. He was still crying, sniffling into the shoulder of Eddie’s t-shirt, but that laugh was – that _true_ laugh – was a glorious sound to hear.

“Okay?” Eddie asked quietly.

Richie only nodded against Eddie’s shoulder in response, but Eddie considered it good enough.

They sat like that for a long time, hugging each other with one arm while their free hands were clasped together tightly. Richie’s cries eventually subsided until silence engulfed the room, but it was nice. It wasn’t the least bit heavy or uncomfortable, but welcoming and peaceful.

When Eddie was sure Richie was all cried out, he asked, “Are your bandages okay?” His hand went up to them again, checking for moisture that he had been too preoccupied to think about before. “You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Richie shook his head, pulling away from Eddie slightly. “No. When I fell out of bed, I fell on my ass.” He rubbed at his backside with his hand, flinching slightly. “I’m probably going to have a bruise there, but at least my head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Let me see,” Eddie said, leaning around Richie to get a good look at the back of his head. He lifted up the bandages over the base of his skull, checking for any sign of blood or further trauma. When the area looked cleaned, Eddie gently replaced the bandages and said, “Okay, you’re good. And thank god, because try explaining that one to the doctors – that you fell out of bed and cracked your head open again.”

“Yeah,” Richie agreed, rubbing the tears from his eyes and cheeks. “Like I needed those motherfuckers to crack my head open for me. I can do it on my own just fine, thanks.”

And there was Richie again, trying to mask his feelings by making a joke out of it. On the other hand, however, it was reassuring to know that some things never changed. It was nice to know that his Richie, however much a pain in the ass he was, was still in there somewhere. And god, Eddie loved him. Just sitting on the bedroom floor with him, seeing Richie’s eyes still glimmer with unshed tears, Eddie loved him. Loved him so much, it hurt.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to pull Richie into his arms again and kiss him desperately, and that hurt too.

“Eds?” Richie asked tentatively.

“What?”

“You said I can ask you for anything, right?”

“Anything.”

“I’m…I’m hungry.”

Eddie smiled, because he was glad that Richie at least had an appetite again. “I think I can manage that. Do you still want soup or something else?”

“I think soup sounds good,” Richie replied. “Help to calm me down after…all that.”

“Yeah.”

“And tea?”

“We have decaf, so yes,” Eddie said, pushing himself to his feet. “Because that’s all you’re getting. I’m under strict instructions to limit your caffeine intake until you’re fully healed.” A moment later, he held out his hand for Richie to help him up.

Richie grumbled something under his breath before he took Eddie’s hand, leaning on the bed with his free hand as he struggled to get his feet underneath him.

“Be careful of the lamp,” Eddie warned, not wanting him to cut his foot too on the scattered shards of porcelain.

When Richie finally straightened up, he swayed momentarily and blinked. The doctors had warned that he might be unsteady at times, especially after sitting or lying down for long periods of time, so this wasn’t unexpected. Eddie simply held his hand, his other hand going out to Richie’s shoulder.

“Okay?” Eddie asked when he seemed to steady himself.

“Yeah,” Richie whispered, staring down at Eddie.

He was standing so very close, Eddie could feel Richie’s breath coming warm and fast on his nose. They stood there for a long time, neither of them moving or speaking a word. Just as they had on the cliff above the quarry after defeating Pennywise for the second time. Just before Eddie had taken the biggest risk of his life and kissed him, changing the course of their lives forever. But now...Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to do it again. Couldn’t bring himself to put that much of himself on the line again. Besides, shouldn’t that be Richie’s decision to make right now? Richie already had so much on his plate right now, and he was juggling so many different emotions. Eddie didn’t want to give Richie anything else to process.

And god, he wanted to. Eddie wanted to push himself up on his tiptoes and press his lips to Richie’s again. He missed that. He missed being able to touch Richie in that way, and he ached for it. He needed it like he needed air to breathe, but he forced himself to stay put. Forced his feet to remain completely flat on the floor.

“Eds?”

“Hm?” Eddie was afraid to say anything further, terrified that it might somehow break the almost magic spell that had settled between them.

“Do we have wedding soup?”

Eddie blinked, because Jesus Christ. He knew this man like the back of his hand, but how did Richie always have the ability to throw him for a loop? Because of course his fucking husband was suddenly thinking about his stomach at a time like this.

Eddie forced out a laugh then, because he didn’t quite know what else to do. “Your favorite? Of course we do.”

Unable to stand there facing Richie for another moment, Eddie slowly turned towards the door. He kept his hand tightly entwined in Richie’s, however, not quite ready to let him go. Richie didn’t seem to mind, letting Eddie guide down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the barstools in front of the island counter. He knew better than to try and send Richie into the living room by himself.

Richie did as he was told as Eddie started to boil water for tea and opened two cans of soup to heat up on the stove.

“Do you want to watch some TV while we eat?” Eddie asked, opening the cabinet where they kept the tea. “Or put a movie on?”

“Yeah,” Richie said softly, smiling. “I think…that would be nice, you know? Take my mind off stuff. You said we used to do it a lot?”

“All the fucking time,” Eddie told him, and it was his turn to smile. So many times, he and Richie snuggled up on the couch, making stupid jokes about whatever they were watching and giggling like idiots. It would then often turn into a make out session, and Eddie missed that too.

“Just nothing scary or creepy, okay?” Richie asked, a visible shiver rippling through him.

He and Richie had never shied away from watching scary movies before, not even in the throes of the battles with Pennywise. In fact, horror had always been one of their favorite genres, but Eddie fully understood why Richie wouldn’t want to watch that sort of thing right now.

“Nothing scary or creepy,” Eddie promised.

Fishing out their trays from the cupboard under the sink, Eddie placed them on the island counter. He set out two soup bowls next before spooning the steaming hot soup into them. And that, that was when he caught Richie’s expression. Caught the way Richie had settled his chin into his hands and was watching Eddie’s movements like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever looked at. There was a smile present on Richie’s lips that Eddie didn’t see very often anymore, and that was nice to look at too.

As Eddie turned around to finish making their tea, he was horribly aware of the fact that Richie was _still_ watching him. Not that Eddie had any problem with that, but was Richie staring at his ass, eyeing the way the fabric of his pants hugged it? Because he knew Richie used to do that all the fucking time.

What in the hell was wrong with Eddie? That wasn’t where they were at right now in their relationship, and Eddie owed Richie a lot more than to automatically start assuming that everything was turning sexual between them again. So why did Eddie’s mind _keep_ going there?

“You remember how I take my tea.”

Eddie had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he barely even registered the fact that Richie had spoken. Eddie turned around from his place at the counter, staring at Richie open-mouthed. “What?” he asked.

“My tea,” Richie said, gesturing to the cup that Eddie was currently spooning sugar into. “Three scoops of sugar.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, turning back to the mug and stirring in the sugar. “Yeah.” He wanted to say something about the fact that of course he knew how his husband liked his tea, which Eddie had to bite his tongue to stifle.

Eddie’s hands were shaking as he set their teacups on the trays, and he only hoped to god that Richie wouldn’t notice. Wouldn’t notice the way Richie’s eyes on him were making him so fucking _antsy_. Eddie felt like he was about to leap out of his own skin.

When he handed Richie his tray, Eddie asked, “You’re okay to carry this, right? Because I’m not cleaning up after your ass either.”

“Yes,” Richie said around a snicker. “Perfectly okay. I’m not a fucking invalid.”

“Just checking! Don’t want a mess on my fucking floor.”

“ _Our_ fucking floor! This is _my_ house too.”

“ _Our_ fucking floor!” Eddie echoed back as he followed Richie into the living room.

When they settled on the couch to eat their soup, Richie flipped through the channels until he settled on the movie _While You Were Sleeping_. They were never really ones to watch romantic comedies, but it was one of the few they liked and had watched together many times. And leave it to Richie to pick a romantic comedy right now of all things. His fucking husband.

“Didn’t…didn’t we used to watch this a lot?” Richie asked, chewing on a meatball from his soup. He turned to look at Eddie, Richie’s eyes boring into him.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, busying himself with taking a sip of his steaming cup of tea. He stared down at it, unable to meet Richie’s eyes. “We didn’t…watch it together until after we moved in here. You remember that?” He finally raised his eyes to return Richie’s gaze.

“Just…it was a flash like déjà vu,” Richie told him. “Not really a full memory.” Richie frowned at the television before he added, “I _feel_ like we’ve done this before.” Richie took a couple more spoonfuls of soup and washed it down with tea. Then he told Eddie, “Maybe not even this movie in particular, but sitting here with you is familiar.”

“Yeah, it is.”

When they finished eating and set their trays down on the coffee table, Richie ended up lying down on the couch, his head near Eddie’s legs. Little by little, Richie kept somehow scooting farther up the couch towards Eddie. Eddie wasn’t sure if Richie was even aware he was doing it, if it was completely deliberate on Richie’s part, or if Richie kept stretching out to give his long ass legs more room.

Eventually, Eddie picked up the throw pillow from where it sat under his elbow and placed it across his knees. He patted it gently and asked, “Would this be more comfortable?”

“Mm,” Richie hummed in response, shifting up the last few inches towards Eddie. Richie settled his head on the pillow before snaking one of his hands underneath it. He let his fingers curl comfortably around Eddie’s knee.

Eddie’s heart started pounding again, and he focused on keeping his breathing steady and even so that Richie wouldn’t catch on. Wouldn’t hear Eddie’s heart about to burst out of his chest. When Eddie was sure his heart and his breathing were under control, he rested his right hand on Richie’s bicep and his left hand on top of Richie’s head.

Eddie couldn’t help himself from carefully running his fingers through Richie’s hair peeking out from the edge of the bandages. He kept his movements small and gentle and then asked, “Is this okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not,” Richie mumbled sleepily. “Feels nice.”

Richie closed his eyes before he reached up with his free hand. He brought it up towards his bicep, stretching his fingers out until Eddie got the hint. Eddie locked their fingers together, using his thumb to rub it over Richie’s.

“Spagheds?”

There was that name again, the one that Richie only used more and more once they had gotten married. Eddie was still running his fingers through the hair around Richie’s bandages – something he had missed doing so very much, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop. “Hm?” Eddie hummed absently, reveling in the fact that Richie was completely calm and relaxed under his fingers, because it had been a long time coming.

“Did…” Richie began, but then he stopped for a long time. Eddie could see him swallowing, could feel his breath hitch before he finally voiced his thoughts. “Did I ever tell you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”

It was Eddie’s turn to gasp for breath, because it was probably the very last thing he expected Richie to tell him. Except maybe for him to fully confess his feelings then and there. Not wanting Richie to think that his words weren’t welcome, that Eddie didn’t thrive on these sorts of platitudes, he quietly said, “Yeah.” A soft smile overtook Eddie’s features as he added, “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me too.”

Richie didn’t say anything more, but his left hand tightened around Eddie’s fingers while his right squeezed around Eddie’s knee. It wasn’t very long before Richie closed his eyes, his grip on Eddie softened, and his breathing slowed even more.

Eddie didn’t dare move, letting Richie cling to him in peaceful sleep. There were so many things Eddie wished he could do – lay down and spoon Richie on the couch, kiss him, and cling to him in return. But for right now, this was enough. Just having Richie safe, and content, and _needing_ Eddie was even more than Eddie could have ever hoped for.

But there was one little thing Eddie couldn’t keep inside. One little thing he felt needed to be said out loud.

“I love you, Richie.”

_To be continued…_


	11. Blank Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: What else is there to do but finish a chapter on the biggest game day of the year when I don’t know the first thing about sports? I watched the Puppy Bowl and then I moved onto getting this done for you guys. I hope you enjoy!

When Eddie opened his eyes again, it was to bright morning sunshine streaming in through the living room windows. He was still sitting on the couch, his back screaming in pain at having been in an upright position all night while his head had lolled against the back of the couch. That, however, wasn’t what held Eddie’s attention.

Richie still had his head on top of the pillow on Eddie’s legs, one of his hands resting comfortably on Eddie’s knee. His mouth was opened slightly and a small pool of drool had formed on the pillow underneath him. Richie’s breathing was deep and gentle, his knees pulled up to his chest. It had been a long time since Eddie had seen him so serene, and it had been even longer since Richie had made it through the night without waking up from a nightmare (excluding the one he’d had the previous evening).

Smiling, Eddie resumed running his fingers through Richie’s hair, brushing away the strands that had been plastered to Richie’s forehead at some point during the night.

This caused Richie to stir. He mumbled something unintelligible before he turned over onto his back. He opened his eyes and stared at up Eddie, clearly a bit confused over his current position.

“Oh,” Richie whispered, a faint blush working its way up into his cheeks. His eyes widened in recognition and he added, “S-Sorry. I…didn’t mean to sleep here all night.” He stretched, but it seemed more like something to do to distract from the fact that he had clung to Eddie all night.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, his smile still present on his lips as Richie’s hair looped around his fingers. “I’m just glad you were able to get some sleep.”

“At the expense of your back,” Richie pointed out, biting his bottom lips in uncertainty. “That…couldn’t have been very comfortable. And I know you – having a comfortable place to sleep is high up on your list of priorities.”

It was Eddie’s turn to stretch, straightening his legs to try and get some circulation back in them. “Totally worth it,” Eddie said. “You needed your rest.” Richie didn’t reply, but continued to stare up at Eddie, so Eddie asked, “How are you feeling?”

Richie opened his mouth, letting out a soft breath of air before he said, “Better.” His eyes darted to the windows across the room, to the sunshine beating down, warm against the carpet. “I…always feel better when it’s light out.” Richie swallowed audibly, the blush deepening in his cheeks. “And hospitals are shit for trying to sleep anyway. Too much fucking noise. It’s nice to be home.”

It made Eddie pause to hear Richie refer to it as their ‘home’, because Eddie was pretty sure that Richie still didn’t remember any of it. “Do you…Does any of it look familiar yet?” Eddie asked hopefully.

Richie shook his head against the pillow, his eyes drifting down towards his lap. He picked at a loose thread on his sweatpants before he answered, “I wish it did, but…no. But I like it here. I feel safe. Comfortable. And I didn’t think I would…considering everything that happened. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re here with me.”

“I’m glad,” Eddie murmured in response. “No more nightmares?”

Richie shook his head again. “No more nightmares. Not when you’re here.” Richie frowned, concentrating on that loose thread on his pants again. Eddie could see him swallowing before he asked, “What are we going to do today?”

“Anything you want.”

“You don’t have to go to work today?”

“No,” Eddie told him. “My boss knows what you’re going through and she told me to take as much time as I need. I told you, I’m going to be here for you as much as you need…or until I start to drive you crazy.”

Richie smiled slightly at this, but then his expression quickly faltered. “Well, what about money? I mean, I’m not going to be working for the foreseeable future, so…how long can you afford to take off?”

“We don’t need to worry about money,” Eddie said. “I don’t know if you remember, but we never intended to live in this house forever. We only bought it with the intention that we’d find something bigger and nicer once I found steady work out here, and after you came out publicly and your career settled down. We’ve been saving so we can make a down payment when we do decide to move, so we have plenty of money to keep us going for a while.”

Richie blinked up at Eddie, confusion ebbing into his eyes. “Oh. So…this living arrangement isn’t just temporary. It’s…long-term.”

A lump seemed to settle in Eddie’s throat, and he couldn’t quite swallow it at first. He opened his mouth to gasp for air, trying his best to keep his breathing slow and steady. It was times like these when Eddie was almost sure that Richie was going to remember something significant about their relationship – when he said certain things, but then that recognition in his eyes would cloud over once again.

Eddie wondered if that dam would ever break – if Richie’s memory would ever come exploding back in full force – and what in the hell would happen then. A tiny part of Eddie thought Richie might be a little bit angry at having the truth hidden from him. Maybe Richie would be disgusted at the thought that he and Eddie had had a romantic relationship at all, but more and more, that didn’t seem like it would be the case at all. Richie seemed to actually be thriving on being touchy-feely with Eddie, so it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities that Richie might be okay with being married to Eddie. And then there was always Bill’s theory that Richie was still madly in love with him and he’d be _thrilled_ with the idea that he and Eddie had been married.

God, that wasn’t too much to hope for, was it?

But then Eddie tried to force his mind back onto the topic at hand, because Richie was still staring up at him, waiting for some sort of response.

Eddie cleared his throat, desperately trying to swallow away that lump before he said, “Y-yeah. As long as you don’t get sick of me first, because I told you I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mm,” Richie hummed as he considered this. “If I was going to get sick of you, I think I would have already. We’ve been living together for a year, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Definitely long enough to change my mind about your uptight, paranoid, hypochondriacal ass.”

“Fuck off.”

Richie’s blue eyes were twinkling up at him, and who the fuck would have ever guessed that bantering would have become such a source of comfort for the both of them? Eddie knew it had morphed into their own private form of flirting, but even before they both realized that (or indeed, even admitted it), it had always been the nature of their relationship. Maybe that was why they had clung to it so much in the lead-up to both their battles with Pennywise – because it was at least one constant in their life they could depend on.

“So what did you want to do today?” Eddie asked just for something to do, because Richie was _still_ staring up at him.

“Well, I have to take a fucking piss and a shower,” Richie said, pushing himself up into a sitting position, “because I feel gross.” He took a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes and run his hands through his already unruly mess of locks.

“Um, do…you need help with that?” Eddie asked him tentatively. “I don’t mind.”

Richie shook his head in response. “No, I’ll be okay. They only helped me take a shower the first day I woke up in the hospital.”

“Okay,” Eddie said. “The bathroom’s across the hall and you know where the bedroom is. You have t-shirts, sweatpants, underwear, and socks in the dresser. And your toothbrush is the yellow one.” Eddie pushed himself forward on the couch, simultaneously inching towards Richie and the edge of the seat. “Are you okay doing those things by yourself? Not physically, but…if you just need me to come and sit in the bathroom with you, I don’t mind doing that either.”

Richie hesitated, visibly swallowing and considering Eddie’s words. In the end, however, he shook his head again. “I’ll be okay. It’s daylight, I’m awake, and…you’ll be here the entire time, right?”

Eddie nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere, and if you need anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Okay,” Richie whispered, looking back at Eddie over his shoulder. He bit at his bottom lip, like he wanted to say something else, but he had restrained himself.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie asked next. “I can make something while you’re getting ready.”

Richie scrunched up his face in thought before he said, “A little bit. But we don’t…we don’t really eat breakfast though, do we?”

Eddie smiled slightly at Richie’s words, because it seemed like slowly but surely, little bits of Richie’s memory were filtering back in. Maybe, just maybe the larger pieces would eventually come too. “Not huge breakfasts,” Eddie told him, “but…we always have a snack in the mornings. Leave it to me. I know what you like.”

“And coffee?”

“I picked up some decaf for you the other day, so yes.”

“Fucking decaf,” Richie muttered, scowling as he finally pushed himself up from the couch. As he had in the bedroom the night before, he swayed slightly on his feet.

Eddie reached out, laying a hand on Richie’s arm until he was able to catch his balance. Richie turned his arm in Eddie’s grasp as he pulled away, letting his fingers brush against Eddie’s. Richie pressed his lips together like he was trying to hide a smile before he made his way around the couch and left the room.

Eddie stayed seated on the couch, burying his head in his hands. He took a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes before lifting his head and raising his gaze towards the ceiling. Eddie was feeling slightly better than he had given Richie’s seemingly calmer and brighter mood this morning, but Eddie was still left wondering and worrying what might trigger another panic attack in Richie. It left him feeling on edge and like he was on the verge of his own panic attack, and that wouldn’t help either one of them.

Shaking his hands to try and release some of his tension, Eddie whispered to himself, “You can do this, Kaspbrak. You’re braver than you think.”

“Stronger too.”

Eddie jumped nearly a mile in the air at Richie’s words, because Eddie hadn’t even registered the fact that he was no longer alone. Eddie turned around, gripping the back of the couch with one hand and staring up at Richie in the doorway.

Richie leaned against the doorway, wrapping his arms tightly around the t-shirt and sweatpants he had retrieved from his room. “I know this can’t be good for your anxiety and I’m sorry,” Richie mumbled, staring down at the lump of clothes. “I know you’re trying so hard to be strong for me, and I want you to know that I do appreciate it.”

Tightening his fingers around the couch cushion behind him, Eddie braced himself for further words from Richie, but none came. Richie didn’t even seem hurt by Eddie’s words, just regretful that Eddie was involved in this with him at all.

Eddie opened his mouth to reply, fully prepared to begin reassuring Richie that he didn’t need to apologize, that he didn’t need to feel sorry for leaning on Eddie so much. In the end, however, Eddie decided on a different tactic.

“You know,” Eddie said quietly, “I meant what I said last night – you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You helped me get through everything my mother and Myra put me through, and you made me a better person because of it. I wasn’t just saying that to make you feel better or less alone. You should know me well enough by now to know that I don’t say shit like that just for hell of it. I really feel that way.”

A small smile played around the corner of Richie’s mouth. “Yeah, I know.”

“And I want you know how happy I am that I didn’t lose you,” Eddie said, staring up at Richie with large round eyes. “Because I was terrified that you weren’t going to make it through this, and I don’t know how I would have handled that.” Eddie’s eyes and nose burned and he closed his eyes against the sensation, steeling himself to get through this for Richie. “I couldn’t bear the thought of coming back to this house alone. Of not having you to have stupid arguments with anymore.” When Eddie opened his eyes again, he firmly held Richie’s gaze. “Of…just not _having_ you.”

Richie momentarily glanced down at the clothes in his arms again, a faint blush creeping up in his cheeks. “You were really afraid?” Richie asked when he met Eddie’s eyes again.

“ _Terrified_ ,” Eddie reiterated. “You can ask Bill if you don’t believe me. He witnessed my breakdowns firsthand.”

“’Cause of _me_?”

Eddie nodded solemnly. “Yeah. So…” He immediately cut himself off, pushing against the back of the couch and standing up. He stepped around the sofa and approached Richie, almost close enough to touch him, but not quite. “I want you know that I’m thankful that you’re here, that I still get to have you in my life. I wish I could make things better for you-“

“You are,” Richie cut him off gently. “God, you are. I don’t even want to _think_ about how much more of a mess I’d be right now if you weren’t here to help me.”

“I just meant that I wish I could make _everything_ better for you right now,” Eddie said. “But since I can’t, we’re going to do this one step at a time, and I’m _grateful_ that I have the chance to even do that. That hasn’t changed and it’s not going to, no matter where this journey takes us. We’re going to get through this together. Trust me?” He reached out with one hand, barely laying the tips of his fingers against the back of Richie’s hand.

Richie turned his hand, enclosing his thumb and forefinger around the ends of Eddie’s fingers. He nodded once and added, “More than anyone.”

“Okay. Me too.”

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“I…um, never thanked you, did I?” Richie asked. “For helping me…through all of this.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Richie was rubbing his thumb back and forth over Eddie’s fingernails, and Eddie briefly wondered if he even realized he was doing it. It seemed almost like a reflex, a muscle memory that had been buried deep underneath all of Richie’s pain and trauma. A memory that was still there, fighting to get out.

Eddie cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Go get your shower. I’ll make us something. And I’m right here if you need me.”

Squeezing Eddie’s fingers in between his, Richie whispered, “Always.” A moment later, he had relinquished his hold on Eddie before disappearing into the bathroom.

Eddie was left standing in the doorway, watching the light flick on underneath the bathroom door across the hall. He heard Richie messing with what sounded like some shampoo and soap bottles on the sink, probably trying to figure out which ones were his. Or which ones he wanted to use now. When Eddie heard the shower water turn on a moment later, he retreated to the kitchen where he dug their K-cups and bagels out of the cupboard.

Just as Richie had said, neither one of them were ever very hungry in the morning, so they skipped breakfast a lot of the time. Eddie knew that was the most important meal of the day, however, and aside from his once unhealthy addiction to medications he didn’t need, it was probably the worst habit he had developed. At some point along the line, Eddie had attempted to change this, which usually resulted in them having a bagel with a cup of coffee in the morning. It wasn’t the healthiest breakfast by far, especially with the amount of cream cheese both he and Richie ended up using, but they liked bagels, so fuck it.

Eddie put his gluten-free multigrain bagel in the toaster along with Richie’s plain one, because his husband was boring as fuck sometimes. He turned the toaster on before starting to brew himself a cup of coffee.

Just then, Eddie heard his phone ring out in the living room. He rushed to answer it and felt some of his anxiety from earlier start to dissipate when he saw the name on the screen.

“Hey, Bill,” Eddie said, slowly returning to the kitchen.

“Hey,” came Bill’s voice through the receiver. “I just wanted to check in and see how Richie is.”

Eddie threw a glance back over his shoulder, checking to make sure that the bathroom door was still closed before he answered. “As well as he can be, I think. Um, he had another nightmare last night, and he was really upset from that, but I got him calmed down. He slept soundlessly through the rest of the night, and…he seems okay this morning. He’s taking a shower right now and I’m making us breakfast.”

“Has he remembered anything else?”

“No,” Eddie said around a sigh. He leaned back against the island counter in the kitchen, waiting for his cup of coffee to finish brewing. “Nothing substantial and…he’s still really unsure about a lot of things, but…like the doctors said, it’s going to be a process. But right now…I think he’s doing okay. Who knows when that might change again, but… _we’re_ currently doing okay.”

“Good,” Bill said before he hesitated. When he finally spoke again, his voice was slightly trepidatious. “Since I’m the head Loser or whatever, I’m supposed to let you guys know that the offer for a party is still on the table and that if you need a break, we’re all here to come stay with Richie if you need us to.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie whispered as he retrieved a couple of mugs from a cupboard. He paused again, checking to make sure he still heard running water in the bathroom. He went to the refrigerator to get some creamer before he said, “I’ll run the party idea by Richie, but…I’m not sure if it’ll be too much for him too soon. He’s still settling in and I think he needs rest right now. Not everyone’s loud and raucous asses.”

Bill snorted into the phone. “That’s what I said, but they definitely want to do something while they’re still here.”

“We will,” Eddie promised, finally grabbing his long-awaited cup of coffee. Goddamn, sometimes he just needed that steaming mug in between his hands in the morning to feel like a halfway normal person. “Maybe in a few days. As for needing a break…perhaps in the future, but Richie needs me right now.”

There was a heavy silence from Bill before he said, “Promise you’ll let me know if you do. Even if you just want to go for a walk or a drive for a while, I’ll be happy to come over for a bit. I know you’re stressed out too.”

Eddie smiled as he finally brought his coffee cup up his lips and took a sip. As nervous as Bill had sounded bringing this up, Eddie knew that his friends were only looking out for him and had his best intentions at heart. Which was a lot more than Eddie could say for some of the other people in his life.

“I’m fine, Bill,” Eddie said once he had swallowed his drink. “I am stressed, but…this is where I need to be right now. With Richie. We’re…getting through this together.”

“Okay,” Bill replied. “And I’m only a phone call away if you want to talk or rant. I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

“Keep us posted.”

“I will.”

Eddie set his phone his phone down on the counter before he went back to his coffee, taking several more sips. He was just popping Richie’s decaf K-cup into the Keurig when he heard the bathroom door open behind him.

“Eds?”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, turning around and bringing his mug to his lips again.

Richie was standing in the hallway, just on the other side of the doorway from the kitchen. His hair was damp from his shower, and his bare feet were just inches away from where he had laid bleeding out on the floor not so very long ago. Where that horrific pool of blood had formed on their hardwood floor.

Despite the hot coffee pooling in his stomach, Eddie felt a shiver ripple through him.

Richie, however, seemed to have other things on his mind. He gestured up at his head and asked, “Can you, um, help me put fresh bandages on? It’s a little hard to do myself.”

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie said. He set down his coffee cup on the island counter and joined Richie in the hall. “How is it?” he asked as he used his thumb to rub across the area at the back of Richie’s scalp where his gaping wound had once been. Where his skull had been peeking out of the skin once upon a time.

The wound itself had closed and the skin was still pink, but it wasn’t swollen nor was there any discharge from it – both good signs. Eddie only wondered if it would leave a scar there. If, after Richie’s hair grew back, Eddie would still be able to feel it underneath his thick curls. If it would always be there to serve as a reminder of what had happened to Richie on one of Eddie’s fucking favorite places to touch his husband.

“It’s okay,” Richie whispered. “A little tender there, but it doesn’t really hurt.”

“You don’t need your pills?”

Richie shook his head, but then something on the wall apparently caught his eye. He was staring up at the wall to his left, at the very spot where their wedding picture had hung up until yesterday. Richie was blinking at that spot for a very long time, and that scared the shit out of Eddie. While he was glad that _that_ spot on the floor hadn’t drawn Richie’s attention, Eddie’s mind was swimming at the thought that Richie could be remembering more things about _them_.

“Wasn’t there a picture there?” Richie asked, pointing up at the blank spot on the wall before lowering his questioning gaze towards Eddie.

Eddie almost felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, because that was the most concrete thing that Richie had remembered about their time together. It was something so little and so _mundane_ , bordering on their actual relationship, and so very strange that it seemed like that would be what Richie would remember. Eddie had been assuming that the big things would come back first, but that didn’t seem to be the case at all. Richie was standing in a house he didn’t even remember living in, but he apparently knew where pictures had hung on the walls.

When Richie didn’t say anything else, Eddie replied, “Yeah.” His voice was strained, because he desperately wished that something more would seem to click for Richie, but at the same time, that thought terrified him too. “Um…it was a picture of us, but…I’m, um, getting it reframed.”

Eddie flinched, because fuck. He _hated_ lying to Richie, but he couldn’t exactly say he put it away because it was their wedding picture. Then again, Eddie was technically lying to Richie by hiding the truth from him in the first place, wasn’t he? Goddamn, he was a shitty husband, but he hadn’t quite been prepared for that question.

“Oh,” Richie whispered, his eyes going back up to that spot on the wall.

Eddie was afraid to interrupt him, like he would break the spell that Richie seemed to be under. Afraid that he would stop Richie from remembering more, even as he was petrified that Richie would realize how much Eddie had been keeping from him. Maybe Bill had been right in the first place. Maybe Eddie should have told Richie the full truth from the very beginning, because he suddenly had no idea how Richie would react if he remembered it on his own.

But then all once, Richie’s eyes were on him again and he asked, “Where’s my car? It…it wasn’t in the driveway when we came home yesterday.”

Eddie almost felt he had gotten whiplash at how fast Richie seemed to be getting flashes of things. Now Eddie knew how Richie probably felt when he had awoken in the hospital to a world that he didn’t remember – lost and caught off guard.

“Oh, it’s in the shop,” Eddie said after a moment. He tried to force his breathing to return to normal, because at least he could be honest with Richie about this. “It needed a new muffler, so we took in before all of this happened. The garage called and said it’s done, but I told them we’re…going through some things. They’re going to hold it until you feel ready to go pick it up.”

Richie swallowed as he blinked rapidly several times. He sucked in a sharp breath as he glanced down at the floor, at _that_ spot, and then Eddie saw the tears sparkling in his eyes.

Eddie placed his hand on Richie’s back gently and said, “I’m here.” He slipped his free hand into Richie’s where it hung by his side, gripping it tightly.

“That’s why they came in,” Richie said, raising his gaze to Eddie. The tears were still swimming in his eyes, but he kept trying to blink them away. To be brave and act like he wasn’t terrified at remembering when his life had taken this horrific turn. “Those assholes,” Richie said, using his free hand to swipe at a tear that had manage to escape one of his eyes. “They came in, because both our cars were gone. Because they thought the house was empty.”

Eddie considered this before he said, “So they weren’t targeting you.” Relief flooded his voice, because up until now, they weren’t sure if those assholes had come for Richie in particular or not. “They must have just wanted to rob the place, and…you interrupted them.”

“But they didn’t _take_ anything!” Richie said in a harsh whisper, his voice cracking at the end. “That’s what I can’t wrap my head around!” He pushed his glasses up on his face, rubbing harshly at his eyes. When he let his glasses fall back down to his nose he said, “If they were going to add attempted murder to their rap sheet, you’d think they’d at least make it worth their fucking while and take some shit.”

“You scared them,” Eddie told him. “They weren’t expecting you to catch them in the act, so they probably decided to run when they realized what they did.”

“ _Eddie_ ,” Richie gasped out around a sob. It had come with such force and suddenness that Eddie was briefly taken aback by it. Richie’s eyes were large and round behind his glasses, and his bottom lip had begun shaking.

“I’m here, Rich,” Eddie told him again. He tightened his arm around Richie, pulling him close and wrapping him in a tight hug. He brought one of his hands up to the back of Richie’s head, gently threading his fingers through the curls. “You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Richie shook his head. “Eddie,” he said again, his voice slightly steadier this time, “I think we better call the detective.”

Eddie sucked in a breath of air before he pulled away slightly so that he could look Richie in his eyes, searching. “You remember more?”

Unable to form words for a moment, Richie only nodded his head. He swallowed several times and closed his eyes before he was finally able to say, “I remember what one of them looked like. He…he had a dark hoodie pulled up around his face, and that _stupid_ LA Dodgers hat on, but…I remember…I could _see_ enough.” He paused and opened his eyes again, staring directly at Eddie, his eyes wide. “Dark hair, dark eyes, and a fucking nose that looked like someone had beat it with an ugly stick.” Richie broke off and forced out a laugh he obviously didn’t feel. “I guess I shouldn’t have told him that, huh?”

“You _told_ him that? _Jesus_ , Rich!”

“I _told_ you!” Richie exclaimed, waving his arms around for emphasis. His voice sounded strained, almost like he was going to start crying again, but the tears didn’t quite fall from his eyes just yet. “I’m barely in control of what I say at the _best_ of times! Never mind when I find two strange men in my house! I clearly wasn’t thinking, and I got my head bashed in for it!”

“Hey,” Eddie said, pulling Richie against him again. Richie went, and Eddie was glad that they were finally past the point of Richie trying to push him away. Past the point of Eddie feeling like he had to physically censor himself around his husband, because they were normally so touchy-feely with each other. Eddie couldn’t quite kiss him or do everything else he wanted to right now, but he could at least offer Richie a supportive touch, and that was enough.

“It’s not your fault, okay?” Eddie asked, running his hand up and down Richie’s back in an effort to calm him. “That was a dumb thing for me to say. Those assholes shouldn’t have been in our house in the first place. They were the ones who did something wrong here, not you.”

“I know,” Richie sniffled, pulling away from Eddie’s grasp a bit. He reached up under his glasses again to rub at his eyes. “I just…I always knew my big mouth was going to catch up with my someday, and now, I guess it has.”

“Rich,” Eddie said, and he reached up too. He used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that had collected on Richie’s bottom eyelashes. “So you piss people off. You piss _me_ off a lot, but that hardly means you deserve to have someone hit you over the head for it. That shit’s uncalled for no matter what you say to someone. Especially a couple of assholes who shouldn’t have been in our house to begin with.”

When Eddie lowered his hands to Richie’s shoulders, he added, “Besides, your big fat mouth is one of the reasons-“ Eddie immediately bit at his bottom lip to stop the flow of words, because he had been on the verge of revealing way too much about their relationship. “It’s one of the reasons why we became best friends in the first place. Although I have no fucking idea why, because you drive me up the wall,” he added quickly, hoping to distract Richie from what he had almost said.

Eddie’s words had had the desired effect, because the very corner of Richie’s lips had twisted up into a smile. “Because it’s what we do-“ Richie said before breaking off suddenly as well. Eddie could almost see the words forming on Richie’s lips, could almost see them hang in the air between them, because they had said them to each other so very many times before. Hell, the Losers themselves had said it to them too more times than they could even count.

_It’s what we do instead of flirting._

“Because it’s what we do,” Richie repeated then, adding a noticeable period to his words that hadn’t been there before. Even though they both knew exactly what Richie had been about to say.

 _They both knew_ , and Eddie really wasn’t sure how to handle that. Were Richie’s words a reflex action, a vague half-formed memory like remembering that there had been a picture on the wall? A muscle memory, like when Richie had absently run his thumb over Eddie’s fingernails just a little while ago? Or was it something more, something Richie was truly feeling in his heart and soul, something that couldn’t be beaten out of Richie no matter how hard those assholes had tried?

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, stepping away from Richie before their touch, their words got to be too much. At least he had an excuse though, because he reached for his phone. He started looking up the detective’s name in his contacts, because if he stayed that close to Richie, if he kept touching him like they had been, then Eddie was afraid that he might do something irretrievable. And ridiculously stupid. Something he wouldn’t be able to take back or explain away.

Eddie’s hands were shaking as he brought his phone up to his ear, because he could feel Richie’s eyes on him. Could feel Richie’s eyes boring into him just as surely as they had been boring into that spot on the wall. That spot that had contained their wedding picture.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was exhausting to say the least. Richie had so many thoughts swirling around in his brain that he couldn’t keep straight, and this really wasn’t the best time to let himself get distracted. He currently had a semi-clear picture in his head of one of the men who had broken into his home, and he felt like he needed to hold onto that image first and foremost, at least until the detective arrived.

At the same time, however, everything else was a good distraction. The way Eddie talked to him and touched him, Richie almost felt electricity course through his veins every time they did. The sensation warmed Richie almost as much it terrified him, because he wasn’t quite sure where all of it was coming from.

Had he and Eddie _always_ been like this once they had decided to move in together? Richie didn’t think things had been like this when they were younger, even though he knew there had always been a certain connection between them. That much was obvious, but they were best friends. Didn’t people just _click_ sometimes? That was what made best friends after all. But this…this was something that Richie didn’t quite remember between them before.

At least, not this powerful. Was Eddie trying to tell him something? Trying to make Richie feel something, or was that Richie’s own wishful thinking? Richie kept going back to what he had told Eddie – he was barely in control of what he said during the best of times – so maybe he should just let his feelings be known. It wasn’t like Eddie didn’t expect off the wall shit from him, so it was just more of the same, wasn’t it?

But then again…Richie’s mouth had gotten him into a whole hell of a lot of trouble the last time he had let it run, so perhaps that wasn’t the best course of action right now. Especially when he had more pressing things to worry about.

Like the picture on the wall – or rather, the blank space on the wall that had apparently once held a picture of himself and Eddie. Together.

Richie could distinctly remember the bright white frame surrounding it and the overall color of the picture. He thought it had been orangish in nature, perhaps something with a sunset or a scene at the beach. Maybe both. But what he and Eddie had been doing in the picture, Richie couldn’t say. They’d probably had their arms around each other and were smiling at the camera, just like a few of the other pictures Richie had seen around the house, but something about that felt…wrong? Inaccurate?

After Eddie had called the detective, he made Richie sit down at the island counter and eat some of his bagel. Richie’s stomach felt like it was tied up in so many knots, that image of one of the invaders hanging in his mind like a dark cloud, but he managed to choke down half of his food.

The entire time he gnawed on his bagel, he kept turning his barstool around, eyeing that blank space on the wall. Like if he stared at it long enough, it might make the picture magically reappear somehow. The picture that Eddie said he was getting reframed.

Richie wondered what had even happened to it that it needed a new frame. Perhaps it had something to do with those assholes who had attacked him, and Richie really wasn’t sure he wanted to know if it did, so he knew better than to ask.

After Eddie helped rebandage Richie’s head, they settled onto the couch with their coffee. That was really when the gravity of the situation began to hit Richie – that he would have to relive the night of his attack in as much detail as he could remember. That asshole’s face with the nose that begged for apocalypse was still hovering inside his mind, but as long as Richie had been focusing on his relationship with Eddie, on the small details around their house, he could draw his attention away from it at least a little bit.

But now the time when the detective said he’d arrive was quickly approaching, and it was forcing Richie to dwell more and more on that part of his memory that he would rather forget. That he was going to have to lay all out on the table for everyone, and he didn’t know if he could do that. Didn’t know if he could relive that part of his past again.

Eddie seemed to sense this, because he pulled Richie’s coffee cup from his hands and set it on the table. He turned to face Richie, pulling one of his legs up on the couch so he could pivot in his seat.

“Listen,” Eddie said, immediately reaching for Richie’s back, “I’m going to be here with you the entire time. You’re safe, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Okay?”

Richie forced a nod he didn’t really feel before he leaned heavily into Eddie. Despite Eddie’s assurances to the contrary, Richie wondered if he was overstepping his bounds by accepting Eddie’s help so much. By accepting his _touch_ so much. Eddie didn’t seem to have a problem with it in the least, but Richie wondered if deep down, he was hoping and praying for a time when he wouldn’t have to treat Richie like a goddamn baby.

But everything about Eddie – his touch and his words – made Richie feel so very safe, and that was all he wanted right now. There was something there – something that clicked and fell into place – almost like he was going home every single time he and Eddie shared a tender moment, and Richie didn’t think he’d ever get tired of that feeling.

Even though Eddie probably would. If he wasn’t tired of it already.

Just then, the doorbell rang and before he could scarcely process it, Richie dug his feet into the carpet, pressing himself impossibly hard into Eddie. His heart leaped up into his throat, making it hard for him to breath. He gasped for air and turned himself in Eddie’s grasp, facing the hallway and the door beyond. He was trying to prepare himself for whoever the hell wanted into his home, even as much he simply wanted to bury his head in Eddie’s chest and never look again.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie whispered, his lips so very close to Richie’s ear. It made Richie shiver, but Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie from behind, holding him close. “It’s just the detective, okay? You’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“Oh, shit,” Richie muttered. He forced himself to take a deep breath, to get himself to stop shaking, even though his heart felt like it was pounding a hole in his chest. “I know that, I just…” The heels of his feet were still pressing into the carpet, like that action alone would save him from whoever the hell was at the door. Even though he knew who was at the door and he was acting like a goddamn lunatic. What in the hell was the matter with him?

“I don’t fucking _know_ ,” Richie whined, and he felt like a baby all over again. He felt like a stupid, pathetic child who could barely even take care of himself and who needed someone to make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself.

“Shh,” Eddie hushed him, his breath warm on Richie’s ear. And Richie liked that feeling, and he wanted Eddie to do it again. As much as this certainly wasn’t the time for such things!

Eddie ran the fingers of one hand up and down Richie’s chest while the other one curled firmly around one of Richie’s shoulders. “I know,” Eddie said, even though Richie thought he had done a shit job of explaining himself. Hell, he didn’t even understand what in the hell _he_ was feeling, so how did he expect Eddie to get it?

“It’s the detective,” Eddie repeated. “Remember we called him? Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“I _know_ ,” Richie mumbled, even though he didn’t. “I just – _fuck_.”

“Listen to me,” Eddie said, pulling Richie even closer. Richie thought he could feel Eddie’s lips on the shell of his ear and that thought almost made him crazy. Even crazier than he was already feeling. “I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you. I stabbed a fucking space clown for you, and I’d do it all over again if I had to. I _promise_. And have I ever lied to you before?”

“Yeah,” Richie said absently, the answer coming to him almost naturally. “That one time when you said you fucked my mom. That’s _my_ line, remember?” Richie felt the muscles in his legs relaxing, and he thought he could finally catch his breath, even as it was still coming hard and fast.

“Other than stupid stuff like that,” Eddie said. “Have I ever lied to you about anything serious?”

Richie could only shake his head in response, feeling himself relaxing into Eddie’s touch.

And then there it was again – the doorbell followed by three quick knocks at the door, and that did fuck all to help with Richie’s state of mind. Richie willed himself to remain calm, however, tried to hold onto Eddie’s words. Eddie’s promise to him. Tried to remind himself that it was just the detective – the detective they had called – so why did Richie want to jump out of his own skin at the sound of someone outside the door? Why was he being so ridiculous?

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie said, slowly releasing his hold on Richie and getting up from the couch. “I’m just going to let them in.” Eddie made his way through the living room and into the hallway towards the front door, calling, “Yeah, I’m coming!” as he went.

Richie remained seated on the couch, his hands drawing into fists in the fabric of the cushions. Despite all of Eddie’s assurances to the contrary, Richie didn’t know if he could do this. Even though Richie wanted nothing more than to put those assholes who had hurt him away. Why had Richie ever suggested that they call the detective again? Richie had wanted to tell the detective what he remembered before it faded away again, but Richie doubted that that would ever happen now. That asshole’s face seemed to be burned in his memory, cruel and looming over him. In fact, he didn’t know how he had ever forgotten it in the first place.

Turning in his seat, Richie glanced into the hallway behind him where he could just see that blank space on the wall – the place where their picture had once been. Burning bright orange in their sea of white walls and furniture. Richie knew that now as much as he was aware of his own name. It had been _orange_ , a burst of color and fire that Richie had liked looking at. He wasn’t sure how he knew that either, but just looking at that space on the wall felt comfortable. Made him feel like he wasn’t so lost anymore. Like an anchor, something that was keeping him grounded in the swirling mess his mind currently was in.

Richie’s heart was still pounding impossibly hard in his chest, and he desperately wished he could see that picture – bright orange with him and Eddie grinning at the camera. Richie felt like if he could see that, then things might feel okay again. That Richie’s crazy mixed up world just might right itself.

_Heart beats fast. Colors and promises._

Richie wasn’t sure where those words had come from, but all of a sudden, they were there, just like everything else that was flashing through his mind today. Perhaps it was the fact that Richie was home, that he was in the same place where those assholes had attacked him.

Was that from a song that he and Eddie liked to listen to? Richie thought so, but he couldn’t quite remember why or which song it was from. After the detective left, he’d have to ask Eddie to play it for him. Maybe it would help to stir something else in his memories, because right now, it was driving him crazy. It felt like it was floating somewhere in his mind, just outside his realm of consciousness, but he knew without a doubt that it was there. Just like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

It was there.

_To be continued…_

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I was almost going to have Richie get shot, but I decided probably nobody wants that right now, so I decided on a bump on the head instead. It still works for what I want to do. :D


End file.
